A Scandal They Call It
by The-First-Step
Summary: The Secret's Out! What's a girl with sociopathic tendencies and a baby on the way supposed to do in the face of a sexy, sophisticated Dominatrix with a certain consulting detective on her mind? It's Myers or Adler... a scandal a piece.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

**Well isn't this exciting then? Massive cliffy that everyone now takes for granted but hey… I made my own ones as well didn't I Hope you enjoy the new story, I've finally gotten onto season two and I would like to thank absolutely everyone for reviewing my past fics… you guys give me creative wings, thanks so much. **

Charlie POV:

The room was silent, the frigid air thick with apprehension as the four stared down at the coats. Charlie felt her mouth go dry and closed her eyes, waiting for the small pop. Nothing happened. In confusion she opened her eyes and then jumped about half a foot into the air as most confusing sound she would ever hear sounded throughout the empty pool room. It was the Bee Gees. God she hated the Bee Gees, men's voices were not meant to be that high, except before puberty. Everyone else had also flinched at the sound, which was ironically 'Staying Alive'. Looking around her confused glance landed on her cousin and he smirked and rolled his eyes.

"Do you mind if I get that?" His voice was tired. Charlie felt ready to kick his lily white ass through the tiled wall behind him, regardless of the snipers he probably still had floating around.

"Oh no please," Sherlock replied, sounding almost bored at the unexpected intrusion.

"You've got the rest of your life." James grinned tightly and answered it, frowning a little.

"Hello? Yes of course it is, what do you want?" He fidgeted from foot to foot as the person on the other end of the line spoke. He rolled his eyes and mouthed 'sorry' at the trio. Charlie glanced briefly towards Sherlock but he was steadfastly gazing towards Jim. She was now clutching his elbow and she squeezed it gently. He flashed her a quick glance, blue eye met green as a ghost of a reassuring smile flittering on his lips before dying away just as swiftly. He was still holding the gun and mouthed 'its fine' with a little shrug of his shoulders. James smiled and continued to listen to whoever was on the phone. Charlie couldn't stop the tiny grin flicker onto her face, the situation bordered on the downright stupid and yet at any moment all four of them could be paste beneath a few tonnes of tile. Suddenly the calm was shattered.

"SAY THAT AGAIN!" James screamed into the phone. Charlie quirked a brow, fighting the instinctive reaction to jump as her cousin's face morphed once more, becoming barely human as he snarled into the phone. Somehow, through the obvious insanity of his mind, he managed to pull himself together and the expression faded. This look scared her more than his outburst… it was like a mirror, fragile and hiding something deeply more disturbing.

"Say that again," he continued, his voice deadly calm,

"And know that if you're lying to me I will find you and I will skin you…" The last two words were drawn out, his hand miming the separation of skin from flesh and his eyes glinting with a sort of dangerous madness. Her cousin was insane. There was no humanity in that gaze and he smiled devilishly at them.

"Wait." He instructed whoever was on the phone before he lowered the phone and took a few steps towards the three people watching him cautiously.

"Sorry," he spoke slowly, gazing at each person equally.

"Wrong day to die."

"Did you get a better offer?" Sherlock asked calmly, nodding towards the phone. James gazed down at it and back at him.

"You'll be hearing from me Sherlock." He turned and walked back.

"Oh and Charlie my dear, give me a due date… I want to be there to welcome my little cousin into the world." He laughed. Charlie's façade of calm finally broke. She saw red and a strange growl left her lips as she coiled. She went to launch herself at the odious man.

"You bastard, you will never, ever see this child. Do you understand, never? If you come near me or it, I will find YOU and I will skin YOU. That's another promise." She screamed but was unable to launch herself at him. Strong arms encircled her waist and she fought like a wild cat to untangle herself. Turning halfway to scratch and pummel whoever was foolish enough to try and stop her she gazed up to see cold blue eyes. Later she was shiver at the memory, for in that moment Charlie didn't know who she looked at, her rage briefly clouded her reason and she drew back her fist, her lips drawn back in a terrible snarl. Then she stopped, sanity returned, and she slumped against a warm, solid chest as her breath came hard and fast. James, satisfied with his exit, made his way across the tiles towards the pool exit, still talking on his phone.

"So if you have what you say you have…I'll make you rich." He told them, whoever it was,

"But if you don't…I'll turn you into shoes." He continued calmly as he reached the door, he clicked, summoning his snipers as he left the pool. Silence reigned and Sherlock looked around as the spell that had been woven so tightly over all of them was broken. Regular time seemed to return to itself once more and the tension dissipated to a breathable quality. For a moment all they could hear was the noise of the pool filter and her ragged breathing.

"So what happened there?" John asked, Charlie finally laughed. She couldn't help it; a small giggle left her as she pushed away from Sherlock to stalk to the pool's edge, gazing down into the flickering water. "Someone changed his mind. Question is, who?" Sherlock said behind her and she nodded thoughtfully.

"I personally want to know exactly what is more important to my dear cousin than blowing me up however…" She trailed off as she turned to face the two men.

"I see there are other things we are to discuss." She said finally and the two nodded. She sighed and wrapped her arms around herself tightly.

"Lead the way then… let's go home.' She whispered. They left, no sign of James or his compatriots, and caught a cab back to Baker Street. If the previous cab rides had been awkward than this one just might have been their mother or queen. Self-consciously Charlie sat between the two, her hands folded sedately in her lap and her thick red hair shielding her from their twin stares. Finally they arrived and entered the flat, after a quick yell to her Aunt to come up too. Slowly, Charlie placed her coat on its pin, sat down on her end of the sofa and began to twist her fingers in complicated knots. Finally her Aunt entered the room. John swiftly informed her of what had happened… minus Charlie's unexpected news and her Aunt had flung her arms around each one, exclaiming, blaming and crying in turns.

"Please, Mrs Hudson control yourself… we're not done yet." Sherlock said, his firm voice halting even the gregarious woman in her tracks. Charlie sent him a dirty look which he shrugged off as he sat down on the opposite arm and picked up his violin. The apartment fell silent.

"Aunty Em…" Charlie began and three sets of eyes fell on her. Alright, enough of this _cac_. She straightened her shoulders and fixed her Aunt with a firm look, one she hope conveyed no nonsense rather than bravado.

"I just had it confirmed today…" Here went nothing.

"I'm pregnant."

There was a pregnant pause (he he he) as everyone allowed everyone else a chance to get used to the idea. Almost instantly Charlie regretted telling her Aunt/ Emma Hudson had long ago given up the chance of ever having grandchildren but at the announcement of a grandniece or nephew, Christmas had come wrapped in chocolate on her birthday. She shrieked and flung herself on her niece, hugging her tightly and scolding her for not telling her sooner, asking all the embarrassing questions older women seemed bound to ask; 'how far along are you' (Sherlock looked a might pissed as he tuned his violin but said nothing), 'did she know what it was yet', 'had she been getting enough sleep'. Unable to answer at the speed of questions Charlie began to lose track of the conversation. That delightful question was backed by John who then began to ask an entire text book worthy list of medical related questions she had gone over with Sarah. Charlie had reached breaking point when a jarring note suddenly sounded through the apartment. The ugly sound brought instant quiet and Charlie sighed with relief. Her aunt seemed to gather that a farewell was in order and kissed her niece goodnight before hurrying downstairs. Charlie gazed over to where Sherlock sat. The consulting detective gazed back, his precious violin perched beneath his chin as he observed her brusquely. She swallowed and prepared herself to answer round three of question night… she was so glad she didn't need sleep or anything.

Sherlock POV:

She looked exhausted. Simply put she probably was however Sherlock needed to get his answers now before she had any more time to lie to him. She looked forlorn, sitting quietly in her spot with her thin arms wrapped around her knees. There were dark circles beneath her eyes and Sherlock knew he'd have to do this hard and fast… better for everyone that way.

"A month you said, well that is… interesting." He began and she sighed.

"Yes, while we were away." She said and he frowned, picturing the weekend that was still very fuzzy to his usually brilliant memory. No help there.

"How?" He demanded and she flinched slightly.

"Sherlock didn't your Daddy ever give you the sex talk… maybe it was Mycroft, the beginning of all this confl…"

"Please Charlotte give me a little credit, it takes two to tango but it is far more interesting to me as to how you managed to collect a partner without John or myself knowing about it." He said and John coughed. Looking his way Sherlock smirked at the obviously uncomfortable doctor.

"Sherlock she doesn't have to tell us… that's her business, although…" He paused.

"You are okay about all this aren't you?" he asked Charlie who smiled tiredly but nodded.

"Yes John, I'm fine." She said and sighed quietly.

"He was… if you really have to know, one night stand I suppose. A fantastic one night stand but exactly that… I won't go after him; I don't need anything from him… only his name." She said and leant back on the couch, her hand riding to her stomach. Sherlock followed it and felt as though he'd been socked straight at the base of the sternum. She looked thoughtful rather than upset.

"A baby is going to change everything about your life… you know that right?" he said and she shrugged.

"So I won't ever get to travel to Peru, big deal. My allowance will just have to go to a trust fund, no biggie. I can start working day hours rather than night ones, more regularity. I can get a bigger place…" Sherlock had heard everything calmly but this took the cake.

"Find a bigger place?" He queried his throat closing slightly as he struggled to maintain his affront. He had been furious with her, at the pool and when they got home but now, now he couldn't be angry if he tried. Hurt. A foreign word usually but now he knew exactly what John had meant. He was hurt. He frowned inwardly and tried to focus on the conversation.

"Yes, I'll move out soon, get out of your hair. I know you don't want a screaming baby on your hands Sherlock, you don't seem much of a child lover and John will have girls over sometimes so…" She looked miserably at her hands. He flinched slightly. She was right, he didn't really like children, they were unintelligent, critical and at most times simply annoying. However, when he thought about it, it hurt a little to hear her say it out loud in such a fashion.

"No." He heard someone say quietly. Looking at a smiling John he realised it had been him. John unfolded his legs and smiled at Charlie.

"Charlie, please don't feel as though you have to move out on my behalf… if the girl's I date can't deal with it than they're not worth pursuing." He said and Charlie stared at him agape. Then she looked around at him.

"Sherlock, you don't have to pretend to want me around… I honestly don't min…"

"You're staying." He said firmly and her scarlet eyebrows shot to the border of her hairline. She unfolded herself slowly and leant forwards to gaze at him.

"A baby is going to change everything about your life… you know that right?" She said and Sherlock smiled thinly at her teasing.

"If John can give up his nymphomanic ways for the sake of your unborn child, I can give up a few pleasures as well." He said and a moment later found himself enveloped in a tight embrace. Thin arms wrapped around him and he looked down to see her beautiful face shining peacefully. John chuckled and stretched.

"Well, I'd love to stay up all night but… I need to sleep." He said brutally and waved goodnight. Sherlock saluted him awkwardly, his arms filled haphazardly with female and violin. When his best friend exited the room he looked down at Charlie only to find her eyes had closed and her breathing had deepened. Not quite sure what to do he slowly eased her off him, placed the violin on its stand and ran his hands over his face tiredly. What the hell had he just done? The anger built up again. Had she just maneuvered him into letting her stay, with a baby on the way… after lying to him about it, after everything he felt for her… okay his metal palace had just taken him on a weird trip. He quietly locked that though away but it snuck back just as harshly.

"Bugger." He whispered and heard what could have been a sleepy snigger coming from Charlie's collapsed form. He looked at her for a long moment. She was asleep, one hand semi-curled beneath her cheek and the other wrapped around her middle, an unconscious protection for the baby. The anger drained away for at least the 30th time that day. Sick of his mood swings and blaming late night telly he sighed and picked her up carefully. She frowned, her lips drawing back slightly and he had a flashback to earlier. He shuddered, she'd gone from rational human being to mindless animal in under two seconds and to be honest with himself it was unnervingly similar to her cousin, but that was as far as the similarities went. He shook his head and carried her carefully out of the lounge room. The apartment was silent as he pulled back the doona of her bed and with great skill managed to deposit his cargo without stirring her. She smiled and snuggled into her pillow. He felt something twinge within him, which he firmly ignored. Affection was a defect of the brain's chemical components and he would be damned if he listened to a defect. With that sorted out he turned and left the room.

Charlie POV:

"Take care Charlie, of you and the Jnr C." Thalia yelled as Charlie left work, almost a month and a half later. Charlie groaned audibly at the reminder and the blonde Aussie sniggered.

"Your own fault for getting knocked up; I expected better things from a girl like you." She teased and Charlie waved half-heartedly.

"Hey, cheer up girl… your man friends are in for a bigger ride than you, just think of the cravings." Thalia said and Charlie finally chuckled.

"Goodbye Thalia." She said firmly and the blonde blew a kiss. A short cab ride later she was in her apartment and greeted by the strong smell of coffee and the sight of her two flat mates having yet another fight over the blog. Sighing she snuck past and into her room, pulling out her oldest pair of pyjamas and a silk dressing gown which felt good on her slightly extended belly. Barefoot she crept back to the kitchen and snagged a muffin from behind the tea boxes underneath the brown sugar tin. Happily munching on her breakfast she sat down on the stool beside one of Sherlock numerous bubbling experiments and crossed her legs yoga style, overly careful of her bulge. With great amusement she watched the battle commence.

"What are you typing?" An obviously bored Sherlock demanded, clearly between cases.

"Blog." Came John's short reply.

"About?"  
"Us."

"You mean me."

"Why?"

"Well, you're typing a lot." Charlie chuckled and the men became aware of her existence once more. Both turned and she grimaced.

"Morning," She yawned slightly

"Tough break huh?"

John answered 'yes', with Sherlock going for the typical pout/tantrum as the doorbell went. Sherlock clapped his hands after setting down his paper.

"Well then, what have we got?" He announced and she rolled her eyes as she moved to the sofa. He marched off downstairs and John sighed.

"You might want to get dressed if that's a client." He said and she stared at him blankly. He indicated her apparel and she smiled.

"John." She said mockingly.

"My back is killing me and although I haven't experienced any morning sickness so far I don't want to chance my good pyjamas, which I might add don't fit me anymore, for the sake of a client who needs to respect my condition."

"My wife seems to be spending a long time at the office…." A man in a beige coat spoke, hands clasped in front of him nervously, palms sweating. She smirked into her lap, shifting in her seat when her back twinged. According to the books littering her room the back ache was evolution in action her spine was being manipulated backwards to create more room for the baby to grow. According her short temper evolution sucked.

"Boring." Sherlock was brief and to the point. Charlie shook her head sadly as the man dejectedly left the flat.

"You're a bully. Honestly Sherlock…" She tutted, he simply raised an eyebrow. She shrugged and winced a headache began to form in her temple. Sherlock held out a packet of Tylenol which she grasped gratefully and swallowed two pills dry. He shuddered. She winked. Unsurprisingly, Sherlock's tack level did not increase as time, and clients, went by. Days later Charlie found herself fighting her laughter when he told two little girls that people didn't go to heaven. John spent the next half an hour explaining to him why it was not appropriate and Charlie spent the next hour chuckling with Sherlock over it.

"_Cac, mo __céadghin _has no chance at this rate. I'm going to be raising a sarcastic, overly intelligent and slightly neurotic child in a household shared by a war veteran and a complete jerk… fantastic." She teased and frowned as Sherlock stopped grinning and went to the window. He had his violin in his hand and began to fiddle with it, stray notes bouncing around the apartment. She sighed. He always did that, whenever the topic of the baby came up. He didn't see it as a problem, as he had informed her weeks ago, he simply didn't care. It hurt to think that her best friend/one time sex partner didn't want to have anything to do with her baby. She felt her irrational tears well again and fought hard to suppress them.

"Unnecessary." Her voice was harsh as she turned her head away and exited the room. From her position in the hall she could hear John berating the detective and smiled. A rather detached melody began to play and she let it soothe her. The baby still almost immediately and she grinned.

"He does care; he just doesn't know how to show it Charlie." She turned to see her Aunt standing at the bottom of the stairs she grinned and shook her head.

"Whatever, Aunty Em." She said calmly and moved off to her room. The music continued, she lay back on her bed (on her side) and let herself drift in and out as she listened to her friends excellent playing. Normally she would have wanted to snap the damned thing in two but the baby bump had obviously changed more than her weight. She shook her head and glanced around her chaotic room. Books, stray furniture she would be needing and her original stuff littered the place and she frowned at the wall as a quiet knock suddenly sounded

"Charlie, please come out, John is making tea and we're bound to have a client soon." She flung her head around to gaze at the offending portal

The doorbell went.

"See?" Sherlock pointed out and she smiled. She stood up and opened the door a crack. He raised an eyebrow.

"Is it safe, you know I wouldn't want to upset any of your precious clients?" She said and he rolled his eyes.

"Please?" He asked and held out his hand. She smiled and took the outstretched palm. He grinned and pulled her into the lounge room.

"Well then, let's see if this one's actually interesting!" She said and he nodded.

Charlie rested against the other slab as she watched Sherlock observed the eyes of the corpse through his magnifying glass, John looking at the specks all over the girl's body.

"Two pierce wounds possibly bite marks, but I can't find evidence of venom in her system. They're running a full toxicology scan but it could take a while." She spoke to the room at large as Lestrade stood besides her, watching them all with the same confused curiousness his face usually held,

"Just in case you wanted details for your blog John." She said and he grinned.

"Do you like it?" He asked and she sighed.

"Thanks for keeping… it… out of it." She said and John nodded.

"I like that you always describe my hair as either 'crimson' or 'flaming' makes the Irish in me proud." She said and he blushed slightly. Sherlock stiffened and turned back to the body. Lestrade smiled at Charlie and handed her an envelope.

"What's this?" She demanded and he smiled.

"A little congratulations appears to be in order." He said and all eyes went to her stomach. She nodded and brought her hand up to the small bump, carefully hidden within the recesses of her coat. After much deliberation she'd decided to buy a larger one, keeping most of society unaware of her condition. Sherlock sighed.

"Thanks Lestrade." Charlie said, touched.

"Better than a blog." She whispered.

"Does anyone actually read it?"

"Where do you think your clients come from?" John replied, sounding offended.

"I have a website." Sherlock spoke, examining the black speckles.

"Yeah, upon which you enumerate two hundred and forty different types of tobacco ash. Nobody's reading your website." John retorted. Sherlock looked up at Charlie who looked up from reading her card. She shrugged and smiled.

"I read it occasionally but I could always just ask you instead so…" She trailed off.

"And Molly does…" She added after a thought causing the whole room, minus Sherlock to smirk. The three walked out after replacing the unfortunate girl.

Two weeks later, Charlie awoke to the sound of Sherlock banging through the apartment. She pushed her way out of bed, got dressed and moved sluggishly towards the lounge room.

"Let's go." Sherlock said and she found her hand seized and the rest of her dragged out into the cold morning. Lestrade met them beside the airport and she

"There was a plane crash in Dusseldorf yesterday. Everyone dead."

"Suspected terrorist bomb. We do watch the news." Sherlock responded, sounding bored. Charlie smirked and raised her eyebrows.

"You were sitting on the couch, said 'boring' and turned over!" She announced and Lestrade coughed, attempting to hide his smile. Unsuccessfully.

"Well according to the flight details this man was checked in on board."

They approached a silvery car parked on the embankment, with a corpse hanging out of the trunk.

Lestrade continued to talk as Sherlock pulled the trunk lid down to inspect the number plate and then bent to look at the body.

"Inside his coat he's got a stub from his boarding pass, napkins from the flight…here is his passport, stamped in Berlin Airport. So this man should have died in a plane crash in Germany yesterday, and instead he's in a car boot in London!"

Charlie bent beside Sherlock to examine the man's body more closely. Her foot caught on the sidewalk and she slipped. Three pairs of hands reached out and caught her before she hit the floor.

"Thanks guys, balance has been out for a while now." She said, embarrassed.

"Any ideas so far?" John asked, lifting his arm out of the way to examine the man's eyes.

"Eight so far…" He nudged her slightly and she peered closer.

"I've only got six." She remarked. He pursed his lips, also peering closer. "Okay maybe four ideas…" He said and she grinned. Suddenly he straightened, examining the passport and ticket.

"Make that two ideas…" He muttered as a plane flew overhead, casting a shadow upon them all. Charlie frowned and followed.

"_Táthaigh tú féin __go__ cineálta_, stupid baby brain." She muttered. Lestrade quirked a brow at her and she grinned. Pointing to her stomach she frowned.

"Not appropriate for children."

"Oh."

Sherlock POV:

"No, no don't mention the unsolved ones!" Sherlock spoke from the centre of the room. He was clad in his usual shirt and trousers combination currently accompanied by his dressing gown, a pair of yellow industrial rubber gloves (commandeered generously from Charlie) and some safety goggles. He started to gesticulate, his annoyance arousing with each moment the man spent in front of that bloody computer. The dark blue liquid in the flask he clasped in his hand slopped dangerously close to the rim of the flask. He managed to save it but not John's soul which he consigned to the darkness corner of hell. The blowtorch on the other hand was being pointed in Charlie's innocent direction as she slowly flicked another page of her book. He caught a glimpse and flinched. What to Expect: Baby's First Year. It wasn't that he was angry with her or the baby factor; he just didn't want to know about it. It annoyed him somewhat, she was carrying another man's child and in a few months he would lose what little quiet he ever had to the kid. It was better if he stayed away, she was fine, he was fine and even the baby was fine… according to her last check-up.

"People want to know you're human!" Insisted John, nodding in greeting

"Why?" Sherlock demanded angrily.

"Because they're interested."

"No they're not..." He looked away for a moment.

"Why are they?"

John didn't answer, instead clicking onto his own blog and smiling.

"Hmm, look at that. One thousand, eight hundred and ninety five." He muttered and Sherlock sighed with disgust as he stalked away.

"Eh?"

"I reset that counter last night." He gestured to the numbers on the screen beneath his smiling profile picture.

"This blog has had nearly two thousand hits in the last twelve hours. _This_ is your living Sherlock, not two hundred and forty different types of tobacco ash." Sherlock straightened upright, smarting. It had taken him a good while and a lot of self-control to count those tobacco ashes; did no one appreciate science anymore?

"Two hundred and forty three." He corrected sulkily, starting up the blowtorch and heading into the kitchen. He heard Charlie giggle as he set the blow torch to the flask. For a few moments there was nothing then…

BANG!

"Sherlock! Please don't damage the counters, Aunty Em will have our heads… you know how she handled the wall!" He grinned as he began to clean the mess up, avoiding the small puddle of acid which began to tarnish the table top. Oops.

Sometime later the three of them were stuck in the bowels of a theatre, cackling madly over the case.

"So what's this one? Belly Button Murders?" Sherlock inquired sarcastically towards John who sniggered. He plunged his hands into his pockets as his two companions walked either side of him. Charlie smiled softly, her face strangely guarded. Sherlock rolled his eyes as Lestrade approached.

"There's a lot of press outside guys!" He announced and Sherlock watched Charlie face drain of colour.

"I can't go out then." She announced and Sherlock frowned.

"Come on it's not so bad." He said but she shook her head.

"I won't expose my baby to that rubbish." She said and she hung back from the awaiting door.

"Well they won't be interested in us." Sherlock spoke casually, half serious and half reassuring.

"Yeah, well that was before you three became an internet phenomenon. Couple of them specifically wanted photographs of you three." Lestrade pointed out and Sherlock wanted to hit him. As he spoke Charlie began to back further and further away.

"For god's sake…Charlotte, come here." He said and she approached cautiously. He gestured around.

"Take what you want, just make it snappy." He ordered and she froze. Then she smiled and wandered away.

"John." Sherlock continued.

"Hmm?"

"Cover your face and walk fast." He tossed a hat over and straight into John's face. The blonde man caught it and scowled briefly before sighing and pulling it on. He walked out of the room and ahead of them again, a hat clasped in his hand.

"Still, it's good for the public image, big case like this." Lestrade said as they approached the exit.

"Come on Charlotte." Sherlock called and they turned to see a cloaked figure running towards them.

"A little melodramatic don't you think."  
"Please, I always wanted to do this." She said and the trio stepped out into the hailstorm of media. Grumbled Sherlock, ramming on a deerstalker and yanking it to cover his eyes, flipping his collar up to cover his face as they left the doors. Charlie seemed to shrink, head bowed and pace as they left the building. Sherlock indicated for John to close in and they squished her between them until they finally reached the cab. The media went nuts.

"Who is the woman? Sherlock let us see her pretty face." These comments were ignored and he allowed Charlie in first

"Sherlock! Over here Sherlock!"

"Doctor Watson!" The door slammed shut and the cab made off. Needless to say the headlines the next day were amusing. Charlie was gazing at a paper in horror.

"Hey John, Sherlock, look at this!" She announced, waving a paper in front of them where John was leaning against the counter, drinking coffee and Sherlock was blow torching a flask… again. He paused and they walked over.

"Hat Man, Robin and The Nun, The Web Detectives." John read out, Sherlock rolled his eyes and Charlie groaned.

"Oh come on, you've got to admit it's funny." He said and she buried her face in her hands.

"If I wanted to be called 'Hat Man' I'd put it on my website…and they referred to Charlotte as a Mystery Woman, possibly a Secret Agent or some rubbish… not the kind of low profile she was hoping for."

She nodded and John rolled his eyes. He grinned at them and Charlie smirked.

"I suppose it could be worse, they could know of the baby." She said and the trio nodded.

**Yeeha! First Chapter up and Running! Hope you all enjoy as much as I have. **

**Translations:**

_**Cac- shit**_

_**Mo **__**céadghin- my first born**_

_**Táthaigh tú féin **__**go**__** cineálta- (playfully) fuck yourself**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

**Hey y'all, just decided I'd add to this story because… you guys deserve it, please keep up the fantastic reviews they inspire me to do better things. Enjoy. **

Charlie POV:

Thank god for weekends. After the past week of cases, dodging the bloody media to and from work and sending the boys off on several cravings errands she was worn out, completely drained. She had plans to just sit back, relax on the couch with her new book and hopefully find out if the rumours about chocolate covered cheese-balls were true. The whole thing had started that way too. 221B Baker Street was pretty flat when she woke up, she decided to drop in on her aunt briefly. They'd had breakfast and her aunt had been fussing again when the door went.

"You stay there dear, I'll get it." Her aunt said and Charlie smiled as she helped herself to another cookie. The peace was shattered when she her Aunty Em begin to shout.

"BOYS! YOU'VE GOT ANOTHER ONE!" She called and Charlie sighed. Pushing herself out of the chair she walked into the hall to see a passed out, slightly pudgy, middle aged man on the floor, she sighed and caught him around the waist, helping him rapidly up the stairs. Moments later the three semi-professional detectives were staring down at him.

"Charlie dear…Please tell me you didn't carry him up those stairs?" Mrs Hudson was clearly shaken as John and Sherlock came to stand beside her, John kneeling to check on the fallen man and Sherlock taking in the scene before him with his typical disdain. Charlie shrugged and patted her aunt's arm gently.

"He was semi- awake, almost carried me up the stairs himself." She said and grinned as Sherlock scowled down at the man.

"Go make a cup of tea Aunty Em and we'll take care of this..." Mrs Hudson nodded and, with a final glance at the poor man in the unfortunately mustard coloured vest, left. John was speaking consolingly to the fallen man and helping him into a chair as Sherlock raised an eyebrow. Sherlock stepped closer. She sighed.

"There goes my relaxing weekend, why did I stay here again?" She asked rhetorically.

"You still needed a shared place to stay now that your pay will be going to a child's education and care." Sherlock said smartly and she flinched.

"Oh, sorry forgot about that." She said tartly and he sent her a frown which she returned.

"I was just saying…"

"Yes Sherlock I know, just saying the obvious well sometimes people ask questions that don't need to be answered we call it rhetoric." She spat and turned away to fix the Victorian-patterned wall paper with a glare fiery enough to peel it away from the plaster.

"Guys!" John called, sounding both worried and amused,

"He's ready to talk."

Charlie scowled but sat down obligingly on the couch to listen to the man while Sherlock and stood before the sweaty individual.

"Tell us from the start, don't be boring." He ordered and so it began.

John POV:

The next morning saw John being driven towards a scenic valley, a laptop on his knees and an irritated expression on his face. The car stopped beside a mobile forensics unit – clearly they were still in the process of actively investigating the crime scene, he just hoped he didn't run into the valley equivalent of Anderson. Honestly the guy gave him the creeps, every time they had been at Scotland Yard the man leered after Charlie like a scrap of meat. He could tell his friend was as disturbed by this as he was but she was far too cool to say anything. He smirked at the memory of Sherlock threatening Anderson's future possession of all his toes, explaining a theory had occurred to him about stupidity and metatarsal balance. It had been interesting to see the speed at which blood left the human face and how fast one could walk away from a dangerous individual. A ginger haired policeman disturbed his thoughts as he knocked on the window and John rolled it down.

"I'm here to see DI Carter?" John smiled. The man nodded, obvious new to the force.

"Yes…yes of course….Sir," He turned and walked over to a suited man who'd just come off the phone,

"There's a gentleman in the car, apparently they need to speak to you."

"Yes I know," He spoke as he got out of the car,

"Sherlock Holmes?"

"John Watson… are you set up for Wi-Fi?"

Charlie POV:

The smell of coffee awoke her from her slumber and she rolled out of bed. She grabbed her newly purchased iPod and plugged the earphones into her ears. Moments later she was jigging down the hall and into the lounge room, as Nine Inch Nails rang through her head. Mid rock-pirouette she froze at a sight she hadn't thought she'd ever see again.

"Sherlock?" She queried, wanting to make sure she wasn't just hallucinating. The detective whirled around and stared at her.

"Uh, Charlie… you're awake, excellent." He said and turned back, she noted a faint pink beginning to creep into his cheeks. Oh my. He was draped in a sheet, a thin cotton sheet, and nothing else. She smirked, reminiscing on the last time she'd seen him between sheets.

"What's up?" She asked, coming to sit down beside him as casually as she could. Nine Inch Nails was cut off as she folded herself into her regular yoga position. The picture on the screen clicked on and she saw John, standing in a rather nice looking valley surrounded by police.

"Oh, hello John… he sent you off then?" She asked and the poor man nodded. Sherlock yawned.

"You realise this is a tiny bit humiliating?" John asked as Sherlock picked up a cup of coffee, he also held out her morning cup of tea and she smiled delightfully. She paused and sniffed it cautiously, aware of her flatmate's often unusual cooking practices.

"It's okay I'm fine. Now show me the stream."

John turned with the laptop so it faced the water trickling through the valley.

"I didn't mean you Sherlock." John said as he walked.

"Look, this is a six. There's no point in my leaving the flat for anything less than a seven, we agreed. Besides I couldn't send Charlotte because she is in a rather delicate condition and wouldn't wake up even when I yelled at her." Sherlock said smartly and Charlie cuffed him lightly, just to prove how delicate she was. He adjusted the screen and his face.

"Now go back and show me the grass."

"When did we agree that?" John asked as he knelt to show Sherlock the grass and the ginger police officer held out an extended tape measure to show him how far the blood had spread.

"We agreed it yesterday…Stop! Closer." Sherlock commanded.

"I was out all day yesterday, how could we have discussed this?"

Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"It's hardly my fault you weren't listening." The doorbell rang and he whirled to face the staircase of the empty flat,

"SHUT UP!" He yelled and Charlie smiled.

"Do you just carry on talking while we're away?" John inquired.

"I don't know; how often are you away?" Sherlock asked and Charlie giggled. When Sherlock looked at her she rolled her eyes.

"Quite the charmer you are, shall I get that?" She asked and he nodded, bored already. John coughed to hide his chuckle as Sherlock asked them to show him the backfiring car. He stood upright and he zoomed in on the car for him as she went to stand.

"Stay here." Sherlock said and she sat back down, surprised.

"There."

"That's the one that made the noise, yes?"

"Yup. If you're thinking gunshot, there wasn't one. I haven't looked properly at the body yet, they're not done, but it was a blunt instrument delivering a single blow to the back of the head.

"Both instrument and killer then miraculously vanished." Charlie said, but her tone came out rather bored. Both men looked at her and she shrugged.

"That has to be an eight at least?" John pointed out.

"No, it's a six." Charlie said and looked at Sherlock. He was frowning and she looked back at the screen to see the policeman behind John was watching the three interact with confusion, suspicion and annoyance.

"You've got two more minutes, we want to know more about the driver." He said but Sherlock simply waved his hand dismissively.

"Oh forget him, he's an idiot. Why else would he think himself a suspect?"

"I think he's a suspect!" Interjected Carter, leaning in behind John as he walked. Sherlock leaned in.

"Pass me over." He said and Charlie smirked.

"Alright," John said and she pointed a finger at him.

"There's a mute button on your end and if this gets out of hand you _will _use it." She demanded and John crossed a hand over his heart, handing Carter the laptop and backing off to walk beside him.. She turned to see Sherlock staring at her in shock she quirked a brow and looked between them.

"Until your dressed properly young man I can treat you however I want." She said and he smirked.

"Really? Please explain how you would do that." He taunted and she leaned closer, loving the widening of his eyes for a fraction of a second before tilting towards his ear.

"Oh Shirley, that's not appropriate conversation for these fine upstanding officers." She said and his eyes flew wide again. She looked down at the sheet again and smiled, flicking a stray piece of hair out of her face as she winked at him. A cough brought them back to the present and she shook herself.

"Having driven to an isolated location and successfully committed a crime without a single witness why would he then call the police and consult a detective? Fair play?" She asked pointedly at the Carter who scowled.

"He's trying to be clever." He replied gruffly,

"It's over-confidence."

She rolled her eyes and saw Sherlock do the same, to John's great amusement. The pair smirked over Carter's shoulder.

"Did you see him? Morbidly obese, the undisguised halitosis of a single man living on his own….the right sleeve of an internet porn addict…" Charlie sniggered, then pulled a face. Glancing at Sherlock and then John worriedly.

"I hope there's some porn on your laptop John or else I'm going to start locking my room and the bathroom doors." She said sternly, causing the army veteran to blush and cough.

"You're safe." Sherlock said and she quirked a brow at him.

"And the breathing pattern of an untreated heart condition, low self-esteem, tiny IQ and a limited life expectancy and you think he's an audacious criminal mastermind?" The latter part of Sherlock's showing off was marred slightly by his sarcastic laugh. Charlie shook her ehad and pinched her nose. He then turned and revealed said man directly behind him. Charlie grimaced apologetically at the poor man who looked deeply worried.

"Don't worry this is just stupid." Sherlock attempted to console the man.

"What did you say? Heart what?" He asked but Sherlock ignored him.

"Go to the stream." Charlie said and Sherlock frowned.

"I was going to say that." He whined and she chuckled.

"What's in the stream?" Carter asked.

"Go and see." The pair said just as Mrs Hudson ran up the stairs flanked by two suited men.

"Sherlock! You weren't answering your doorbell!" She complained and she took in their state of dress with a stern expression.

"Aunty Em… stop worrying would you." Charlie said and stood. She immediately regretted it when one of the men took her arm. She yanked it away and snarled at him.

"His room is out back, get him some clothes." He said to his partner and turned to her.

"You best get dressed." He said and she frowned but moved to obey.

"Who the hell are you?" She demanded as she passed but he ignored her.

"Sherlock? What's going on?"

One of the suited men slammed the laptop shut and she could almost feel John bristling on the other end. Shaking her head she walked to her room and got dressed quickly, a black, high waisted skirt, puffy white top which she tucked into the waist band and a pair of ankle boot. She brushed her hair and went back to the living room to see Sherlock still wrapped in his sheet. She rolled her eyes.

"You coming?" She asked and he smirked. Another eye roll.

"Men." She muttered disgustedly. She walked to her coat peg and grabbed her cloak, pulling the hood up over her head and walked down the stairs and into the cab, Sherlock right behind her… still in his blasted sheet.

Having been driven across London and ushered into the doors of _Buckingham palace _of all places, Charlie and Sherlock with expressions nonchalance and a little confusion on her part, following their guide who gestured grandly into a brightly lit room with many windows before leaving. And it was there they sat and waited, on an extravagantly embroidered sofa, for John, where Charlie couldn't help but play with the tassels. Before them on a table of similarly extravagant proportions were his clothes, folded neatly with his expensive leather shoes resting atop them. A few moments later John did arrive and he took in the lunacy of the situation and struggled not to laugh. She could see it. Whereas Sherlock himself was seated in the middle of the palace wearing only a white bed sheet over his birthday suit, Charlie looked like a female monk stepped out of history. The black cloak she had taken from the theatre was wrapped around her, shielding her body from view and mixing with the black of her skirt, besides her flaming red hair there was probably no hint of colour anywhere. Yin and Yang in _Buckingham Palace_. The pair turned to look over and John gestured about him, a questioning look in his eyes. Sherlock sighed and shrugged, the sheet rustling about him as he did so. Slowly, he walked over to sit with them, Charlie was once again stuck between the two with Sherlock to her left and John to her right. They sat in silence for a moment before John turned to look at Sherlock.

"Are you wearing any pants?" He questioned after a moment. Sherlock didn't even look at him, or her.

"No."

"Okay." She felt his gaze on her and turned to look at him. He was struggling with the instinctive laughter and she frowned playfully. She nodded slowly and looked around her again; bitting the inside of her check in an effort not to follow his suit. They both looked over to Sherlock and finally, en masse, the three burst out laughing.

"We're at Buckingham palace…right." John spoke first, clearing his throat.

"I am seriously fighting an impulse to steal an ash tray."

Charlie lost it and her peals of laughter rang through the palace before slouching back into the softness of the couch. Sherlock relaxed as well and the trio sat back, Charlie could feel Sherlock's leg pressed against hers through the cotton and cloak and swallowed the impulse to tuck a stray piece of his hair behind his ear. The look on his face would be momentarily priceless but afterwards would be awkward as hell.

"What are we doing here Sherlock? Seriously?" She asked when she calmed down, thanks to that delightful tibit.

"I don't know." He replied, looking over.

"Are we here to see the Queen?" She suggested, looking around. Mycroft Holmes rounded the corner, as well dressed as ever. Sherlock smirked as he spoke.

"Oh, apparently yes." He remarked and she bit her lip hard to stem her giggles.

"Just once can the three of you behave like grown-ups?" Mycroft asked and she sat up affronted.

"Mycroft, I would have you know that there are rare occasions when we do in fact act like respectable citizens of London… just not while we're in Buckingham Palace and he…" She indicated Sherlock with a thumb.

"Is dressed in nothing but a sheet."

"And you look like a nun." Sherlock retorted and she grinned.

"But of course, I must please the masses with my infamous costume. I'm surprised you didn't think to bring the deer stalker Shirley." She teased making him frown. Mycroft coughed and they settled down again.

"Although I must admit thought this had something to do with you, nobody else would send a bloody helicopter." She remarked after a slight pause. Mycroft frowned.

"I was in the middle of a case Mycroft." Sherlock moaned and his older brother shrugged.

"What, the hiker and the backfire? I glanced at the police report, bit obvious surely?" He pointed out and Charlie tried to cover her shock. She had forgotten what is was like being in the same room at the Holmes brothers, a bit of a mind fuck yet the most stimulating thing she'd done in weeks.

"Transparent." Sherlock answered. Mycroft turned to her now and waited.

"And to you?" He asked and she began to twirl a piece of hair around her finger. She really should think of getting it cut, it was getting far too long. Finally she shrugged.

"Fairly simple. I suppose it could have been nice if we'd been able to see the body, just to confirm but I have my theory… the right one." She said confidently. Sherlock smiled and his brother nodded.

"Time to move on then." He cleared his throat and presented Sherlock with his clothing. Sherlock just looked at it.

"We are in Buckingham Palace, at the very heart of the British nation. Sherlock Holmes, put your trousers on." His voice was firm.

"What for?" His response was childish and abrupt. Charlie gave him a disapproving glare which he ignored.

"Your client." Mycroft said pointedly, making Charlie giggle. Sherlock stood.

"And my client is?" He demanded just as a sandy haired man rounded the corner and approached them.

"Illustrious, in the extreme. And remaining, I have to inform you, entirely anonymous."

He took in the three before him, his expression fairly unimpressed. Charlie scowled. Just because he answered the queen di not mean he had the right to look down on her patriotism flew out the gilded window at this point and she sneered back, showing him how unimpressed she was with what she saw. He stepped back a little. She smiled.

"Mycroft." He smiled. Mycroft stepped forwards, hand extended.

"Harry. May I just apologise for the state of my little brother."

"A full-time occupation, I imagine."

"Ah, _the _Miss Charlotte Myers, Mycroft has also told me much about you." He said and extended his hand, which was at odds with his previous standing. In the end she stood and shook his hand.

"Soon to be two, I presume?" He remarked and she quirked a brow at him. She looked over at Mycroft and mouthed two sweetly framed words that made him pale a little before sitting once more.

"Yes." She answered simply.

"Congratulations, and this must be Dr John Watson, formerly of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers?"

John straightened slightly.

"Hello, yes." He held out his hand to shake.

"My employer is a tremendous fan of your blog."

"Your employer?" John asked slowly.

"They particularly enjoyed the one about the aluminium crutch."

"Thank you." He gave a pointed look to Sherlock, who rolled his eyes once more. Finally, Harry turned to the tallest of the three.

"And Mr Holmes the younger, you look taller in your photographs." He said

"I take the precaution of a good coat and short friends." He started walking away as Charlie and John processed this comment,

"Mycroft I don't do anonymous clients. I'm used to mystery at one end of my cases both ends is too much work. Good morning." He replied and began to strut towards the door. Mycroft, deeply unimpressed at his brother's behaviour, pressed his foot onto the part of Sherlock's sheet that was trailing onto the floor. In a spectacular feat of dexterity Sherlock managed to catch the sheet before his revelation became too shocking. Charlie managed a quick glance at a quite attractive butt before John caught her eyes and she flushed. He chuckled and she smiled.

"What, can't I enjoy a nice view?" She asked and he shrugged.

"I don't bat for that team but I have no problems with you looking Charlie." He said and she winked. She went back to staring and relaxed into the settee.

"This is a matter of national importance, Grow up!" Mycroft commanded, his foot still on the sheet. Sherlock was getting frustrated now.

"Get off my sheet." He demanded.

"Or what?" Demanded Mycroft, raising his eyebrows. Charlie smirked and waited.

"Or I'll just walk away." Sherlock said brazenly. Charlie's eyes widened as she watched.

"I'll let you." Retorted Mycroft, daring his little brother to try.

"Please Sherlock, go for gold." Charlie said and the room fell silent. Both Holmes turning to look at her. She grinned and sat up from where she lazed on the couch.

"A naked Sherlock Holmes through Buckingham Palace, completes my sense of patriotism to the core and gives John something interesting to right about on his blog plus..." She paused lewdly and quirked a brow. They got the picture.

"Boys, Charlie, please. Not here." Mycroft begged and Charlie patted the sofa next to her.

"Sherlock come here." She said and Sherlock took a small step back towards them then stopped. The room was a little shocked. He looked smugly at Mycroft.

"Who. Is. My. Client?" He asked and Charlie coughed and indicated where they were.

"Take a look at where you're standing and make a deduction. You are to be engaged by the highest in the land. Now for God's sake put your clothes on!" Mycroft said and Charlie began to laugh as Sherlock stalked back to where they sat and planted himself beside her.

"Close your eyes." He ordered and she smiled.

After a few minutes Sherlock was once again clothed respectively and now sat opposite his brother, one leg crossed casually over the other. A tea tray had been laid out before them and Charlie who had long ago stopped pretending she wasn't watching smiled at Sherlock as he listened to his brother.

"Here Charlie, I know your preferences." He said and she took the offered cup from Mycroft's fingers before sipping it cautiously. It was delicious. She smiled, a genuine smile that Mycroft returned.

"Every time I drink one of your brother's I'm afraid he's put something in it… it's nice to have no surprises in your tea." She said and Mycroft covered his eyes with a free hand.

"Sherlock," He muttered and said Holmes frowned.

"I'm innocent until proven guilty." He quoted and Charlie shook her head.

'Harry' finally spoke.

"My employer has…a problem."

Mycroft nodded.

"A matter has come to light of an extremely delicate and potentially criminal nature and in this hour of need, dear brother, your name has arisen."

"Why?" Sherlock said sharply,

"We have a police force of sorts, even a marginally secret service. Why come to me?"

Mycroft glared evenly as his companion spoke.

"People do come to you for help don't they Mr Holmes?" Harry said evenly and Sherlock paused in mock thought.

"Not to date anyone with a navy." He remarked tartly and Charlie sipped her tea in order to avoid a sarcastic comment of her own

"This is a matter of the highest security and therefore of trust." Mycroft said cautiously and Charlie perked up a small bit.

"You don't trust your own secret service?" John asked, frowning slightly. Mycroft raised an eyebrow.

"Naturally not, they all spy on people for money." He said as though it were obvious and Charlie nodded.

"Try your family, then you'll have something to complain about." She said tartly before returning to her tea cup as eyes fell on her.

"I do think we have a timetable." Mycroft started and set down his teacup as Sherlock raised his eyebrows.

"By all means please continue, this is fascinating." Charlie said.

"Yes, of course." He cleared his throat as he pulled a photograph out of his briefcase and handed it over.

"What do you know about this woman?" Sherlock looked at it and then Charlie whose eye widened a fraction, it showed a rather pretty woman and her female intuition began to spark almost immediately.

"Nothing whatsoever." Sherlock said.

"Then you should be paying more attention. She's been at the centre of two political scandals in the last year and recently ended the marriage of a prominent novelist, by having an affair with both participants separately." Mycroft said and Charlie quirked a brow.

"Well she gets around." She said quietly and smirked as the men had another look at the photo. Sherlock held the photo for John to look at.

"You know I don't concern myself with trivia. Who is she?" He looked up at his brother.

"Irene Adler, professionally known as The Woman." Charlie frowned and looked at Mycroft.

"Professionally?" She asked and he grimaced.

"There are many names for what she does. She prefers 'dominatrix'." He said and she couldn't help it, she giggled. She received an interested look from Mycroft and a curious expression from Sherlock. She waved it off and put on a polite face.

"Dominatrix…" Sherlock spoke lowly.

"Don't be alarmed, it's to do with sex." Mycroft looked rather self-satisfied. Charlie thought it an odd comment but wisely said nothing as Sherlock's pride finally got the better of him.

"Sex doesn't alarm me." He said and Charlie covertly placed her hand on his leg. It went unnoticed by the older Holmes who's smirk made her want to smack him, despite the wonderful tea he served.

"How would you know?" He asked smugly and Charlie stiffened. That didn't go unnoticed by the older Holmes.

"Are you alright Charlie?" He asked and she smiled thinly.

"Back pain." She muttered and she felt the muscles of Sherlock's leg tense under her palm and squeezed lightly. This conversation had gone from awkward to kingdom of gauche in under a second. She lowered her gaze to her lap. She spoke, attempting to sway attention away from Sherlock who looked as close to embarrassed as he could get.

"So…whips and leather eh?" She asked and John snorted. Mycroft nodded.

"Yes, she provides, shall we say, recreational scolding for those who enjoy that sort of thing and are prepared to pay for it. These are all from her website…" He said and handed over an envelope which Sherlock promptly opened. There were more pictures inside. They were of the same woman, this Irene Adler. In these photos she was beautiful and mysterious, in revealing, or no, clothing and positioned erotic poses, posing with a riding crop and looking at the camera with 'come hither' eyes. Charlie decided in that moment that she did not like her. There was something in those eyes dark brown eye that made her shiver, not to mention feel somewhat fat. Adler quite obviously had never been pregnant.

"And I assume this Adler woman has some compromising photographs?" Sherlock said after a slight pause.

"You're very quick Mr Holmes." Harry said and Charlie smirked.

"It's hardly that difficult to guess. The general rule in society today is photographs or it didn't happen. The only reason to be truly afraid of this woman is if she had photographs that might make it into the wrong hands." Sherlock started and Charlie smiled thinly.

"That or a recorded phone call, but she seems to be a more hands-on type of girl." Charlie finished and gazed at one photo in particular with open contempt.

"Photographs of whom?" He questioned. Mycroft and Harry looked at each other and back to Sherlock.

"A person of significance to my employer." He said delicately,

"We'd prefer not to say any more at this time."

John frowned and cleared his throat.

"You can't tell us anything?"

They all turned expectantly to Mycroft, who took a deep breath.

"I can tell you it's a young person. A young, female person." He said and Charlie bit her lip and carefully placed her tea cup down.

"How many photographs?" Sherlock asked.

"A considerable number, apparently."

"Do Miss Adler and this _young female person _appear in these photographs together?" Charlie asked and Mycroft nodded.

"Yes they do."

"And I'm assuming they appear in a number of compromising scenarios?" John's teacup was frozen half way to his lips as he watched the exchange. He was more than a little flushed but had managed not to embarrass himself so far.

"An imaginative range, we are assured."

"I'll bet…" John muttered and Charlie winked at him covertly,

"Sorry."

"John you might want to put that cup back on the saucer now."

He did so with a 'clink'.

"Can you help us Mr Holmes?" Harry asked and Sherlock had a look in his eye that spelt 'mock the hell out of these people'.

"How?" He asked innocently.

"Will you take the case?" Mycroft pushed and Charlie looked over at Sherlock.

"What case? Pay her, now and in full. As Miss Adler remarks in her masthead, know when you are beaten." He reached back to where his coat was resting on the sofa back.

"She doesn't _want _anything." Spoke Mycroft sharply. Charlie froze and waited.

"She got in touch, she informed us that the photographs existed, she indicated that she had no intention to use them to extort either money or favour."

There was a moment's silence and Sherlock looked at Charlie. She nodded minutely. There was only one real reason a woman told someone about delicate information but refused to sell, okay maybe two, but right now she was focusing on just one.

"Oh, a power play. A power play with the most powerful family in Britain. Now that is a dominatrix, ooh this is getting rather fun isn't it?" Sherlock said and Charlie heard something strange in his voice, or maybe she put it there.

"Certainly a step up from a chubby man fainting in the kitchen." John said and she nodded. Sherlock looked at his brother.

"Hmm. Where is she?" He asked.

"In London, currently. She's staying…" He began but Sherlock was officially done.

"Text me the details." He took Charlie's elbow and gently pulled her upright before grabbing his coat.

"I'll be in touch by the end of the day." He said.

"Do you really think you'll have news by then?" Mycroft asked and Sherlock turned around as he buttoned his trademark jacket.

"No, I think I'll have the photographs." He said smugly and Charlie intuition screamed at her that this was not going to end well. He stared evenly at the sandy haired man who spoke.

"One can only hope you're as good as you seem to think." He said and Charlie smiled. Sherlock cast a glance over the man's attire and both John sighed. He was blatantly about to…

"I'll need some equipment of course." He said.

"Anything you need, I'll have it set over." Harry replied.

"Can I have a box of matches?"

"I'm sorry?" The man looked immensely confused…as did Charlie and John.

"Or your cigarette lighter, either will do." He held out a hand.

"I don't smoke."

"No I know you don't but your employer does." He said and Charlie gave a little round of applause. John frowned and looked at Sherlock warningly. Mycroft simply smiled as he rolled his eyes.

"We have kept a lot of people successfully in the dark about this little fact Mr Holmes." He spoke, handing over the lighter.

"I'm not the commonwealth." Sherlock shook his head, snatching up the lighter.

"And that's as modest as he gets. Pleasure to meet you." John said and nodded goodbye to the men. Charlie pulled her hood up, effectively covering the red hair she needed to get cut before waving goodbye. Sherlock caught her arm and looped it through his, catching her by surprise.

"Work with me." He said and she nodded. He was obviously still smarting from Mycroft's comment and she smirked. He saw it and his shoulder's slump the smallest bit. She regretted the expression almost immediately.

"Please don't." He muttered and she looked up at him. She smiled up at him.

"Sherlock, I wouldn't dare." She said seriously and he looked at her curiously. Whatever he saw in her face convinced him of something and he grinned back at his brother.

"Laters!" Called Sherlock to the palace at large as they rounded the corner and left the enormous building.

**Woop! Done and dusted. That was one of the best cenes in the series, I loved the sheet and I think it will come up in my stories more often now. Please review it makes me so happy. Ciao!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

**I'm just burning through this episode, must be all the reviews :P **

Sherlock's POV:

It was quiet in the taxi, Charlie sat wrapped in her own thoughts (worryingly enough) next to him, until John broke the silence.

"Okay, the smoking, how did you know?" Sherlock smirked, if for nothing else he kept the man around it was that he loved getting a private laugh out of John. He shook his head bemusedly.

"The evidence was right under your nose john. As ever, you see but do not observe." He said and felt rather than saw Charlie scowl.

"Observe what?" John asked as Sherlock reached into his coat.

"The ash tray." He flipped it in the air as John laughed before he slipped it back into his inner coat pocket, smirking. Charlie remained silent all the way home.

This was a serious problem, he had nothing to wear. He smacked himself mentally after he heard that feministic thought complete itself. He was standing ankle deep in disguises with nothing to wear for this meeting. Why did he care again? He thought about it and came up with nothing but a naked picture of the Adler woman. Jesus, this was ridiculous. A policeman's helmet? No, too obvious.

"What are you doing?" Came John's worried voice and Sherlock groaned.

"I'm going into battle John, I need the right armour!" He called back, stepping into vision wearing a luminous jacket and looking up. Charlie sat at the counter fiddling with one of his experiments he was about to yell at her when she looked up at him and shook her head firmly.

"Too obvious." She said and went back to fiddling. He nodded and disappeared.

Back in a taxi John spoke.

"So what's the plan?" He looked to his right, where Sherlock found himself crammed.

"We know her address." Charlie said as she re-checked her hair in the compact mirror she held before her, she pulled out her iPod as she replaced the mirror.

"Mycroft texted me." She said and Sherlock frowned. When was it alright for his older brother to text Charlotte Myers? Never, that's when. When had he been this upset about it? …? He puzzled over that one before taking in Charlie once more. She'd left her nun's habit in the flat. Without it she looked more herself. A professional black pearl-toned shirt and red pencil skirt ensemble would do nothing to hide her bump, which was currently the size of a small orange, however a mid-thigh over coat offered her some protection and her sensible flats gave her some running room. He nodded and relaxed back against the seat. Then remembered why he was angry and frowned again. Charlie was ignoring him, humming quietly to a song on that infernal iPod.

"So we're literally going to ring her doorbell?" John asked.

"Exactly right John. Just here please." The latter half was directed at the cab driver who slammed on the brakes and accepted his payment, allowing them enough time to leap out of the taxi before he sped off again. Stood on the pavement, John looked over to Sherlock again.

"You didn't even change your clothes." He said and they both looked over to a dancing Charlie who had begun to attract attention from some passers-by.

"Then it's time to add a splash of colour." He said and tugged at her arm. Mid-twirl she stopped and pulled out her ear phones.

"Hey, it was getting to the good part." She complained and he rolled his eyes. He directed them towards an alleyway and Charlie quirked a brow.

"Are we here?" John inquired, looking around them.

"Two streets away but this will do." Sherlock said smartly, knowing he was going to regret the next sentence before he said it.

"Punch me in the face." He said calmly and Charlie's head snapped up sharply enough to give her whiplash.

"What?" Came the simultaneous interjections from his flatmates. Charlie's iPod was officially disconnected and she burrowed it into the folds of her coat, shock on her face.

"Punch you?" John repeated.

"Yes. Punch me in the face. Didn't you hear me?" Sherlock asked as the pair looked at each other.

"I always hear 'punch me in the face' when you're speaking. But it's usually subtext."

"Oh for god's sakes…" His right fist shot out and caught John across the jaw. It was a good punch and it sent John windmilling backwards. Charlie's eyebrows skyrocketed and she hung back as John himself, once he had recovered, smacked Sherlock as hard as he could with his balled fist.

"Thank you." Sherlock spoke as he stood straight, his head ringing slightly from the well-aimed strike. It would appear that John had other ideas, as he continued punching him before clinging onto his neck like an angry monkey, causing Sherlock's face to go bright pink as he struggled to breathe. He looked over at a bored Charlie and indicated to the insane war veteran.

"Charlie!" He called out in a strained voice,

"I don't know if I could." She responded honestly. She was looking at John worriedly.

"You want to remember Sherlock, I was a soldier. I killed people!" John said and Sherlock sighed, despite the grip on his throat.

"You were a doctor!" Sherlock argued.

"I had bad days!"

Finally Charlie intervened and lunged at John, effectively pulling the crazy man off Sherlock and towards the alley wall. Sherlock staggered to his feet and looked at her in astonishment, still breathing hard. She turned and smiled thinly.

"Nurses are big guys, I used to knock them on their asses for fun… no offense John but you're nowhere near as big." She said and the doctor waved her off.

"Are you okay?" She asked Sherlock after a moment and he nodded. She clucked at his face moving closer and reaching up to dab softly at a point on his cheek. It hurt like buggery but he stood stock still while she checked him over.

"Nothing's broken." She said and her eyes softened slightly.

"Good." She whispered before stepping back and turned away. Sherlock wanted to call her back, ask her to keep checking him over. He'd even go through to pain just to make sure she was still touching him. He remembered the look on her face when Mycroft had… well, whatever. She hadn't laughed which surprised him, she hadn't jeered or even looked surprised at the announcement. No, she'd looked guilty as all hell and he was going to find out why… after the mission of course. Straightening up he re-wrapped his scarf. John cleared his throat.

"Right. What now?" He asked.

Charlie POV:

They watched from a few feet away as Sherlock, dressed surprisingly well as a vicar; spoke into the intercom of the house. Charlie had to admit, he'd make a fine preacher to look at, might have even convinced her to go back to church.

"He really is too good at the role playing." She said quietly. John smiled and nodded.

"Yes well if he wasn't we'd be entering by force." He remarked dryly and she sighed. They followed as Sherlock was allowed into the house. John spoke for them.

"I saw it all happen, it's okay I'm a doctor. This is my friend Charlotte."

Charlie nodded and tried to look worriedly into the house.

"Thought we'd sit with him until the police came. Have you got a first aid kit?" John asked and although the pretty, red haired woman before them didn't look entirely convinced by their act she nodded and stepped back to allow them inside.

"In the kitchen." She said and John went to fetch it. The red head smiled at Charlie in a predatory fashion and Charlie's eyebrows had another work out. She moved after John as they retrieved the first aid kit from a large, showy kitchen as Sherlock headed to the sitting room around the corner. John had her find a bowl and fill it with water, grabbing a cloth as they went to find him.

"Right this should do it…" He stopped suddenly. Charlie scowled as she was forced to stop suddenly with the water in the bowl slopping back slightly and wetting her coat. She looked around John and nearly screamed. There, in the middle of the room, was Irene Adler. If she'd been pretty in the pictures, she was nothing short of beautiful now. She wore nothing but a pair of killer heeled shoes and had Sherlock's white 'vicar collar' between her teeth. Said detective was seated on the couch looking as uncomfortable as he could get, which was actually rather nonchalant for a male in a room with a naked dominatrix. She nudged John lightly to stop him staring and moved to sit down beside Sherlock placing the bowl on the table and forcing herself to relax. Irene smiled at their entrance until Charlie sat down, then it became war. Previously Charlie hadn't liked her, now she hated her.

"Ah, you must be Charlotte, what a pleasure." Irene said, smiling like an alluring booby-trap.

"If you'd like some tea I can call the maid." She said and stepped back, her fine curves coming into view. Charlie just stared politely into her face after a quick perusal. Know thine enemy.

"We had some at the palace." She said shortly, glancing at Sherlock.

"I know." The woman said brightly.

"Clearly." Sherlock said lightly as Irene sat down opposite them in an armchair. Although still naked, the folding of her limbs provided more protection for an obviously flustered John would was still standing in the doorway with a thunderstruck expression on his face.

There was a moment's silence and Irene spoke.

"Do you know the big problem with a disguise, Mr Holmes? However hard you try, it's always a self-portrait." Irene said and Charlie snorted quietly.

"Last time I checked Miss Adler Sherlock wasn't a vicar with a beaten up face." Charlie remarked tartly and Irene glowered slightly.

"Please call me Irene, Miss Adler is too old fashioned." She said in a forceful voice she probably used in the bedroom and Charlie shrugged herself out her coat, affectively avoiding an answer. Irene smiled again after her own perusal. She turned back to Sherlock, obviously thinking herself the victor without a doubt. Charlie's self-esteem plummeted for a brief moment then she shook herself. No jumped up poxy was going to re-define her self-worth.

"No, I think he's damaged, delusional and believes in a higher power. In his case, it's himself." She leaned forwards.

"Oh and Mr Holmes if I had to punch that face I'd avoid your nose and teeth." She said making John laugh sarcastically.

"Could you put something on please? Anything at all…er…napkin?" He held up the cloth. Irene looked like a cat who'd got at the cream.

"Why? Are you feeling exposed?" She inquired innocently, leaning forwards.

"I don't think John knows where to look." Sherlock said, removing his coat. Oh and you do?

"No, I think he knows exactly where." She stood in front of them, facing John.

"Not sure about you, however." She turned to Sherlock, who handed her his coat.

"If I wanted to look at naked women I'd borrow John's laptop." Sherlock spoke calmly. Irene raised an eyebrow.

"You do borrow my laptop." John said annoyingly, oblivious to the slow sinking in Charlie's chest.

"I confiscate it."

"Well never mind," Interrupted Irene,

"We've got better things to talk about. Now tell me, I need to know, how was it done?" She sat down next to Sherlock but looked across him at Charlie. The two women stared at each other for a long moment before looking away and returning their attention on the detective between them. Said man stiffened slightly.

"What?" Sherlock asked.

"The hiker with the bashed in head." Irene answered, taking her shoes off.

"How was he killed?" She looked over at Charlie in amusement, obviously thinking her to be stupid as well as pregnant.

"Do you know?" She asked and Charlie smirked.

"Of course, it was simple however that's not the reason we're here." She said boredly and looked around the opulent room. Adler frowned, annoyed. She recovered quickly.

"No, no, no you're here about the photographs. But that's never going to happen." She turned to Charlie and smirked.

"Though I'd be more than willing to make some of our own, I would enjoy breaking you in… gently of course." She remarked after a quick glance to Charlie slightly protruding stomach. Charlie quirked a brow.

"Oh, it would take someone stronger than you to dominate me Miss Adler." She said primly making the dominatrix scowl slightly. John was staring at them open mouthed and Sherlock seemed more than a little dazed. The two women engaged in another round of eye fighting. Charlie imagined what it would be like to pull out that nice clump of hair at the front of her head. Then they smiled at each other and looked away. After an oddly tense moment John spoke.

"Sorry, that story hasn't been on the news yet…how do you know about it?"

"I know one of the policemen. Well, I know what he likes." Irene said nonchalantly. She clicked suddenly, making everyone jump. John was glancing around the room. He took in Sherlock who was now watching Irene as one might watch something suspected was poisonous and didn't want out of their sight. He'd gotten up and the two women were now alone on the couch.

"Oh." John said, clearing his throat as all eyes turned to him,

"And you like policemen?" He asked. Irene smiled indolgently.

"I like detective stories. And detectives. Brainy's the new sexy." Sherlock coughed.

"Position of the car relative to the hiker at the time of the backfire, that and the fact that the death blow was to the back of the head, that's all you need to know." Sherlock paced as he spoke. Charlie shook her head. A fain smell was beginning to form and as she breathed in her stomach began to churn slightly. She looked around to see if anyone else were affected but they weren't. She looked down at her outfit and slumped. Of all the days to feel sick her body chose this one.

"Okay, tell me, how was he murdered?" Irene asked, leaning forwards. Charlie grinned, despite her stomach.

"He wasn't." She said and although Sherlock looked put out from her interjection the look on her face was worth it. She looked puzzled.

Irene just looked at her like she'd grown two heads.

"You don't think it was murder?" Irene said and Charlie slumped on the couch brazenly. She looked up and met Sherlock's eyes briefly, her smirk widening slightly as his lips twitched upwards in what could have been a smile.

"We know it wasn't" She said.

"How?" Irene's eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Same way we know the victim was an excellent sportsman recently returned from foreign travel and that the photographs I'm looking for are in this room." Sherlock said and Charlie decided to let him have a run, god knows he needed to show off before he exploded in frustration. Irene's expression was suddenly infinitely more guarded as she clutched Sherlock's coat around herself. Charlie couldn't blame her.

"Okay but how?" She asked.

"So they are in this room? Thank you. John, man the door, let no-one in."

He sighed but obediently got up and left the room, closing the door behind them. Sherlock began to recount and, for lack of better phrasing, showing off.

"Two men alone in the countryside, several yards apart, and one car." Sherlock said. Charlie yawned and curled up on the sofa, one arm under her head and her eyes shut. The smell was getting worse and she could feel her throat closing in effort.

"Oh…I-I thought you were looking for the photos now?" Irene sounded tense, confused perhaps.

"No, no, looking takes ages. I'm just going to find them." Sherlock responded coolly.

"But you're moderately clever and we've got a moment so let's pass the time. Two men, a car, nobody else…" She zoned out for a moment, trying her hardest not to throw up all over the spotless floor. That would mean defeat and that was something she couldn't swallow, not like vomit which she could if she tried really hard.

"Any moment now something is going to happen, what?"

"The hiker is going to die."

"No, that's the result. What _happens?_"

"I don't understand."

"Oh, well, try to."

"Why?"

"Because you cater to the whims of the pathetic and take your clothes off to make an impression. Stop boring me and think, it's the new sexy." He finished, mimicking her voice. Charlie actually chuckled at this. Opening her eyes briefly to smirk over at Sherlock who looked at little bashful. She winked and reclosed her eyes. Not before she saw a note of concern in his face. Maybe she looked as bad as she felt.

"The car is going to backfire."

"There's going to be a loud noise." Sherlock said frimly and Charlie could tell this was a signal. She braced herself. Rolling up to brace herself against the sofa arm and stare around the room.

"Oh, noises are important. Noises can tell you everything. For instance…"

The smoke alarm began beeping violently and appreciation for the power of John Watson filled her. Irene's gaze flashed momentarily towards a large portrait and the tow genius' caught it. Sherlock called through the door.

"Alright John you can turn it off now!"

"Yes! I'm trying!" He shouted back. A moment later she heard the unmistakable sound of a bullet whizzing through the air and the siren went dead. Charlie, swaying slightly from whatever the smell was doing to her system, stood and moved towards Sherlock who caught her by the arm. The door opened and John entered followed by four others. "Hands behind your head, on the floor, keep it still!" The head called and Charlie bit her lip. Sherlock leaned down and whispered in her ear.

"Are you alright?" He asked and she shook her head tightly. He frowned but straightened. There wasn't anything he could do at this point. The man who had spoken had an American accent and even Sherlock seemed surprised as John was forced to kneel.

"Sorry Sherlock…ow!" John winced as his knee hit the marble flooring harder than anticipated. Charlie wretched slightly and looked over at Sherlock. After a small moment he reluctantly let go of her arm.

"Miss Adler, Miss Myers on the floor!" The American man commanded, and the two women knelt simultaneously. They smiled at each other thinly and Charlie grimaced apologetically. Head above her head Irene could only roll her eyes dismissively.

"Don't you want me on the floor too?" Sherlock asked.

"No, sir, I want you to open the safe." He pointed the gun at Sherlock, who didn't seem remotely phased.

"American. Interesting, why would you care?"

"Sir, the safe, now please."

"I don't know the code." He responded coolly, hands by his head.

"We've been listening, she said she told you." The man continued and Charlie snorted.

"Well if you'd been listening you'd know that she didn't!" Charlie retorted sharply earning a barrel to the head for her troubles. That got Sherlock interested. He scowled.

"I'm assuming I missed something. But from Mr Holmes' reputation I'm assuming he did not." The American said firmly. John looked around desperately and gestured towards Irene.

"For god's sake, she's the one who knows the code! Ask her!" He said. The American raised his eyebrows.

"Yes, sir, she also knows the code that automatically calls the police and sets off the burglar alarm I've learned not to trust this woman." He said and Irene looked up.

"Mr Holmes doesn't-" She began.

"Shut up! One more word out of you, just one, and I will decorate that wall with the insides of your head. That, for me, would be no hardship." He spat bitterly. Charlie looked over at Irene and smirked knowingly. The woman shrugged despite the situation. He paused.

"Mr Archer, on the count of three, shoot Miss Myers." He said and Charlie looked at him in shock.

"I'm pregnant." She said and the man quirked a brow.

"That really is unfortunate. Wrong place, wrong time love." He said callously and she snarled.

"I don't know the code." Sherlock insisted and Charlie began to .

"One." The gun was pressed into her neck and she was forced forwards slightly.

"I don't know the code." Reiterated Sherlock, an edge of what might have been panic to his words. Charlie looked up at him and smiled reassuringly. He had seen it, he just didn't realise it yet. He'd get it in a moment.

"Two." Hopeful now.

"She didn't tell me I DON'T KNOW IT!" Sherlock insisted and now she began to panic a little.

"I'm prepared to believe you any second now." Smiled the American man as Sherlock looked desperately to Irene who looked down at herself,

"Three."

"No! Stop!" Shouted Sherlock. He turned to the safe once he was certain they weren't going to shoot her and typing a code into the keypad of the safe. It clicked open and she sagged in relief.

"Thank you, Mr Holmes. Open it, please." The American continued and Charlie's stomach swirled violently she groaned and collapsed forwards. Sherlock took the window. He turned the handle before facing John and Adler.

"Vatican cameos!" He announced, ducking as he opened the safe door and a bullet, then two, whizzed out into the room, shooting the man behind John as both Charlie and Irene made use of their positions and made short work of the two behind them. Irene just about killed the man whilst Charlie swung her legs and knocked her flat, his skull bouncing off the marble floor with a sickening crack. Sherlock snatched the gun from the ringleader's hands and proceeded to knock him out with a sound hit to the temple from the butt of the gun.

"Do you mind?" Sherlock requested, gesturing to the remaining conscious assailant. Irene shrugged.

"Not at all." She answered and knocked him out swiftly as Sherlock reached into the safe and withdrew a phone. John checked the pulse of the man who'd been shot.

"He's dead." He announced and Charlie slowly clambered to her feet. The world turned and she groaned. She fell and two males raced towards her.

"What's wrong with her?" John demanded and Irene chuckled.

"A woman's body is three times as sensitive during the state of pregnancy. Her sense of smell affects how her body's hormones react in certain situations and right now I have a mixture of typically odourless chemicals floating through the room effectively leaving her in a perpetual state of nausea which is paralysing her. We can't smell them but she sure can and look, she can barely walk." She said and Charlie moaned as she leaned back into someone's arm. Looking up she saw Sherlock and grimaced.

"Help me up." She said and he did. She stood swaying slightly and faced Adler.

"Well thanks for the national geographic lesson, keep it up and I will knock on your ass before you know it." She said fiercely, swallowing bile stubbornly. The woman frowned and turned away. Charlie patted Sherlock on the arm and went to lean on the sofa arm. He moved back to his original spot by the wall, staring at the phone in his hands.

"Thank you." Irene announced loudly in Sherlock's direction,

"You were very...observant. I'm flattered."

"Don't be." Sherlock said starkly and Charlie was glad to hear his voice was cold.

"There'll be more of them; they'll be keeping an eye on the building." He marched out, followed by John. Charlie staggered up and went to follow but Irene smirked. Giving her the highway salute Charlie stalked out.

"We should call the police." John announced as they stepped out of the house.

"Yes." Sherlock responded quickly, firing four shots into the air, terrifying a passing driver.

"On their way." He announced.

"You're mad." Charlie announced boredly, her stomach returning to normal almost the instant the stepped out of the house. He grinned before walking back in. John rolled his eyes and Charlie groaned.

"Oh for God's sake, please don't encourage him."

"Oh shut up, it's quicker than calling." She grinned. Sherlock nodded.

"Check the rest of the house John, see how they got in."

John darted off and she followed Sherlock into the room where Adler still stood in his coat. Her stomach was beginning to roll again and Charlie quickly sat down on a chair whilst the two talked.

"Well, that's the knighthood in the bag I'd say, wouldn't you agree?" He inquired coolly, flipping Irene's phone from one hand to the other. She rolled her eyes but smiled all the same.

"The last thing you need is a bloody knighthood to make yourself feel more important…" She teased, closing her eyes and placing a hand over her stomach. Somewhere deep inside the baby moved. She bit her lip worriedly.

"Oi, Shirley Jnr moved again." She said and he froze. She punctured her lip in the effort to keep from throwing up. The smell had gotten worse and she cursed Adler.

"Good or bad?" He asked and she shrugged.

"Can we leave now?" She begged.

"That's mine." Stated Irene, holding out her hand. Sherlock turned it on and sighed when he saw the lock screen.

"All the photographs are on here I presume?"

"I have copies of course." She replied defensively, voice sharp.

"No you don't, you'll have permanently disabled any kind of uplink or connection . Unless the contents of this phone were provably unique you wouldn't be able to sell them." He said and Charlie groaned. Irene dropped her arm.

"Well who said I'm selling?" She demanded and Charlie blanched, and not from the smell. That tone of voice was dangerous.

"Well why were these guys interested?" She asked, gesturing to the men on the floor,

"Whatever's on that phone is clearly not just naked photographs."

"That camera phone is my life, I'd die before I let you take it. It's my protection." She said and Charlie's theory was confirmed. Adler wasn't power playing, she was protecting herself and even more powerful motivator. John called them from upstairs and Sherlock slipped the phone into his pocket.

"It was."

The red haired woman lay sprawled across the floor. John checked her pulse as his flatmates walked in, the scantily clad dominatrix in tow. He gestured to the window.

"They must have come in this way. Don't worry she's just out cold." He said and Irene chuckled slightly.

"Well God knows she's used to that. There's a back door. You had better check it hadn't you?" She said to John who nodded and walked off. Charlie clung onto Sherlock who wrapped his hand though her arm and assisted her back to the original room.

As they re-entered the room. Irene moved to another place in the room Charlie hadn't noticed. She picked up a riding crop and moved towards them. Charlie felt her intuition scream at her to run. Her stomach finally gave out and she collapsed again. Taking the distraction Adler attacked. Sherlock had not chance. She was desperate and soon she had him on the floor. Charlie scowled and swore at her.

_'Gheobhaidh mé thú_ bitch." She said as Irene retrieved the phone.

"Sorry I can't understand you, must be on a bad connection.' She mocked and turned away. Charlie watched her disappear. A few moments later the smell disappeared and she got up. Irene returned.

"Bitch, I will kick your ass and then I will kill you, revived your bleeding carcass and kill you again… Sherlock?" She looked over and saw him laying on the floor, twitching occasionally. She ran over and knelt beside him. John walked into the room. He was beside his friend in moments.

"Sherlock?" She turned to Irene,

"What the hell have you done to him?"

"Oh don't worry I've used it on loads of my friends." Irene replied airily from where she sat on the windowsill. John knelt opposite Charlie.

"Try not to let him choke on his own vomit, it makes for a very unattractive corpse." Adler said and Charlie ignored her. Instead she pulled Sherlock head up onto her lap whilst John rolled him into the recovery position. She was worried, his eyes were wavering in and out of focus and she looked over at John who shrugged.

"You know I was wrong about him. He did know where to look." Added Irene, Charlie wanted to strangle her.

"The key code to my safe."

John frowned.

"What was it?"

She smiled.

"My measurements."

With that she dropped from the window, clasping the curtain pull and using it to lower herself onto the street. John ran to the window as sirens approached but she was gone. Charlie sighed and stoked his hair away from his face. He opened his eyes wide and looked up at her for a moment. She smiled.

"_Codladh sámh_ _a__searc__._" She said and he grimaced. Chuckling she stroked his hair. He whispered something and she leaned closer. Her eyes flew wide and he slumped back.

"What did he say?" John asked and she shook her head.

"_Ná tréig mé a__ stór."_ She said and he tilted his head. She laughed and shook her head.

"Nothing important." She said just as the police arrived.

Eventually they reached Baker Street and after much manuevering of Sherlock's unending limbs, managed to get him upstairs into 221B. Her Aunt popped her head out to look at them as they passed. John taking most of Sherlock's dead weight whilst Charlie tried to be useful and direct his.

"Good God, what's happened to Sherlock?" She asked and Charlie sighed.

"He was drugged." She responded after a considerable thought. Sherlock chose that moment to half open his eyes and mumble incoherently. After a quick check up, and by quick she meant rough 20 minutes of having to stand around arguing with medical professionals, it was agreed that the drug would wear off and that it would be alright for them to take him home to rest. Mrs Hudson frowned again.

"Well if he needs anything, just let me know…I'll make some tea." She said and Charlie blew her a kiss. Her aunt moved off and the pair continued to lug their gangly friend up the stairs and into his extraordinarily neat room. They managed to lower him onto the bed and stepped back, exhausted, as he rolled onto his front.

"I think I saw a phone or two out." She said and John smirked.

"Wouldn't hurt to get a little humiliated." He said and she frowned slightly. After a second they both laughed.

"Right, the doctors said he'd need water so you get some of that and come back. Don't want to leave him unattended…" She said and John nodded.

"I'll go explain to Mrs Hudson…" He said and she smiled. There was a loud bang and she turned to see Sherlock moaning on the bed. More than a little bothered at memories best left for another time she tried to get him to relax. He flailed and she sighed.

"Too hot…" He grumbled, and she sighed, walking over to the window and opening it. A breeze swept in and he sighed contently.

"Better?"

He nodded. Charlie smiled and bit her nail thoughtfully as he drifted off again.

"You're a bloody nightmare you are, I can't believe the situations I allow myself to get into because of you." She spoke to the unconscious man. She sighed and wrapped her arms around her belly.

"Hm." She pondered morosely. He seemed unmoved by this so she grabbed a chair and sat down next to the bed. Remembering her new book she had planned to read she went and fetched it. As he slept she flicked open the first page. He groaned and she quirked a brow.

"Boomarang." He muttered and she grinned.

"Excellent." She murmured before turning back to her book.

Irene POV:

The damn bitch wouldn't leave. She just sat there and read. Occasionally the doctor would come in and they would have a quick talk then he'd go and the pair would be alone.

"Damn." She muttered. She really wanted to leave her present. Finally when it appeared Charlie wouldn't be going anywhere she slipped into the fire escape and crawled up onto the window sill. She knocked to be polite. Charlie looked up and frowned.

"What?" She asked and flicked another page.

"I came to return this, it's not really my style." Irene said, indicating th coat over her arm. Charlie smirked and looked up.

"What a shame?" She retorted and closed the book.

"Well hurry up, he'll wake up soon." She said and flicked a piece of that amazing hair out of her eyes. Jealousy coursed through her and she paused.

"Fine. I am sorry about the chemical issue but that phone is very important to me." She said and Charlie shrugged.

"You're just protecting yourself, I can understand that even if I don't like how it's done." She said and glanced at Sherlock thoughtfully. Taking this time Irene slipped in and replaced the coat. Both women paused as Sherlock turned over and woke up momentarily. As Charlie watched she walked over and leaned to stroke Sherlock's unruly black curls back from his forehead as he frowned in his sleep.

"Hush now; it's okay. I'm only returning your coat." She murmured huskily, flicking a smug glare over at the quiet woman behind her. Saluting her briefly she hopped back onto the window sill and was gone. Running through London was fun, messing with 221B Baker Street residents, even better.

**Yeah! Take that! Oh I love righting conflict between these women it just so interesting. Hope you're all enjoying it, I know I am. **

**Translations:**

**_Gheobhaidh mé thú- I will find you_**

_**Codladh sámh**__**a**__** searc- sleep well my love**. __(note the my love applies they were or are lovers which I thought was appropriate seeing as Charlie's dominant side came out a bit in this chapter)_

_**Ná tréig mé a**__** stór- Don't abandon me my darling.** _


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Charlie POV:

As it turned out Charlie missed the grand awakening of Sherlock Holmes. Apparently her bladder decided it was a great time to suddenly announce its presence and she'd yelled out to John to take over. When she returned the two men were staring at each other, albeit one more blearily than the other. Moving to her chair she picked up the Dean Koonz novel and hugged it to her chest. There was a moment's silence before Sherlock looked around the room. He seemed mildly disappointed about something.

"Where is she?" He asked, mainly to himself causing her to frown a little. She knew exactly who he was looking for and she didn't like it one bit.

"Who?" John asked and Sherlock gave him a typical 'are you as stupid as you look' look.

"The woman, that woman." He said as though that clarified matters to the nth degree. Charlie sighed and moved to the door. The men continued to argue.

"What woman?" John asked.

"The woman! The woman, woman!" Sherlock announced frustratedly.

"Adler." She explained to John as she passed. His eyes widened in understanding. Then he grimaced.

"Oh Irene, she disappeared, no one saw her." He said to the befuddled detective. Sherlock began looking wildly about the room, crawling to look beneath the bed which Charlie thought was utterly ridiculous. The woman was thin but not that thin.

"She wasn't here Sherlock." John tried, sighing and heaving him upright. "No, no, back to bed." He all but threw Sherlock back onto the covers, "You'll be fine in the morning, just sleep." He ordered in his best 'I'm a doctor and you don't mess with my authority' tone.

"Of course I'll be fine, I am fine. I'm absolutely fine." Sherlock announced into his pillow. Charlie bit her nail worriedly. The coat hung by the door, just out of her reach.

"Yes, you're great. Now, I'll be next door if you need me. Charlie, are you coming?" john asked and she nodded.

"I'm getting cabin fever." She said and he smiled. She indicated for him to leave and he did throwing her a sympathetic looked. Was she that obvious these days… damn this pregnancy. Her pocket buzzed and she pulled her phone from its depths.

_Charlotte, _

_It seems even my brother was fooled, make sure he stays out of trouble and those photographs are found… I know I can trust you not to fall for this woman's tricks. _

_Sincerely _

_MH_

She smiled and returned the text.

"Who was that?" A drouzy voice called and she looked up.

"Mycroft." She said shortly before turning away.

"Wait Charlotte…" Whatever Sherlock had been about to say was cut off by a loud, breathy moan. Charlie could recognise a sound like that a mild away and she jumped about a foot in the air. Sherlock opened his eyes and looked at her amusedly.

"That wasn't you was it?" He asked and she frowned heavily.

She raised her eyebrows and shoved him.

"No it most certainly was not. That was your phone." She said tartly before retrieving said item from the returned coat pocket.

"Pardon?" She looked over at him, phone in hand.

"How did that get there?" He asked and she shrugged.

"Charlotte." He demanded and she flicked him a glare.

"It's not that important is it?" She asked and he frowned but sank back on the pillows.

"What does it say?" He asked, attempting to stand up only to be forced back down. She scanned the text and bit her tongue to stop her testy growl.

"Till the next time, Mr. Holmes." She said and snapped the phone shut.

"If that bitch has my number…" She trailed off and shoved the phone back into the pocket with more force than was strictly necessary but made her feel a hell of a lot better.

"You don't like her." He noted and she looked down at her nails in sarcastic wonder.

"Oh I wonder what your first clue was." She said sardonically and turned away. Arms and book folded to her chest she stalked down the hall, counting different ways she could murder one Irene Adler without getting caught… so far she had six.

Sherlock POV:

His head was still foggy when he emerged the next morning. Charlie and John were both up and about, John with a cup of coffee and Charlie reading yet another book. He was certain she'd been reading Koonz last time. Shaking his head he sat down in a chair and opened the newspaper on the table before him. Silence reigned, an odd feeling but pleasant considering his state of mind. Mrs Hudson appeared and began to bustle around in their kitchen and soon he found himself in the company of the one person he was really at loath to be around today, or any day for that matter. Mycroft stood by the fireplace, cane in hand as he peered around the flat which was decidedly more chaotic than usual due to Charlie's unfortunate bouts of what she termed 'baby brain'. Plates, papers and clothes were littered everywhere and books were stacked unevenly around the living room. Finally he decided to break the silence.

"The photographs are perfectly safe." He muttered without looking up from the paper.

"In the hands of a fugitive sex worker." Mycroft returned testily. Charlie nodded and Sherlock frowned at her. Whose side was she on?

"She's not interested in blackmail. She wants…protection, for some reason." Sherlock said and Charlie sighed.

"You Holmes' don't know the first thing about women do you? Of course she wants protection. She's in possession of a top secret safe, assumed multi-government secrets and has enemies on the American continent. The fact that she told you is just her way of announcing her armour, without it she'd be defenceless against whatever it is she's really frightened of." Sherlock looked over at Charlie in puzzlement. How on Earth had she known that? All the time she'd been in Irene's company they'd gone at each other like snakes, how could she possibly see through Adler's foreplay? He'd forgotten that a) she was female and b) a clever one. Note to self, don't forget facts a or b. She smirked at him and returned to Dan Brown with a shrug. Mycroft was smiling politely.

"I take it you've stood down the police investigation into the shooting at her house?" Sherlock said and Mycroft frowned.

"How can we do anything while she has the photographs? Our hands are tied." He muttered.

"Your choice of words is to be applauded." Sherlock spoke.

"You see how this works, that camera phone is her get-out-of-jail-free card. You have to leave her alone. Treat her like royalty, Mycroft." He reasoned, seeing the matter ended.

"Though not the way she treats royalty." Added John bemusedly. This little bit set Charlie off, she laughed into the crease of her book even though Sherlock was positive Brown was not a comedian. She stopped immediately when his phone went off. Her lips tightened ever so slightly before she shrugged and put her book down. Stretching she stood and moved to the kitchen.

"What was that?" John asked. Sherlock looked up and played it false, ignoring the small flutter the moaning phone gave him.

"Text." He muttered.

"But what was that noise?" John went on pointedly. The kettle whistled and after a few moments Charlie reappeared.

"Irene Adler." She said neutrally and passed another cup to Mycroft who accepted politely. They smiled at each other; apparently she was on his brother's side this morning. The thought made him uncomfortable. He ignored it and went back to his paper, overly aware of the conraderie between his brother and… well Charlie.

"Why haven't you changed that?" She asked after a moment. He picked up his phone.

"Did you know there were other people after her too, Mycroft? Before you sent us in there? CIA trained killers, I think, excellent guess." He said.

"Yeah thanks for that Mycroft." John spoke up irritably,

"We all were almost shot."

Mrs Hudson appeared from the kitchen. She walked over to her niece and passed her a small package, another baby present she'd had to buy. Charlie covered her annoyance with a smile and thanked her quietly.

"It's a disgrace, sending your little brother into danger like that. Family is all we have left in the end, Mycroft Holmes!" She announced, picking up bowls left scattered beneath cushions and books.

"Oh, shut up, Mrs Hudson!" Mycroft responded angrily, prompting Sherlock and John to glare up at him in anger and shout back in unison.

"MYCROFT!" Charlie just gazed at him in shock. She growled lightly. He froze at the joint volume of the two of them and Charlie's unusual response.

"Apologies." He muttered before returning to his tea.

"Thank you." Mrs Hudson replied abruptly.

"Though do in fact shut up." Sherlock remarked dryly. It was his job to shout at Mrs Hudson, not that he'd ever intentionally try to upset the woman she just needed a brisk reminder ever now and again... not Mycroft's job. His phone moaned again. Mrs Hudson jumped.

"Oh it's a bit rude, that noise, isn't it?" She said embarrassed. Like John she was obviously uncomfortable with the noises. Interesting. She looked over at Charlie but her niece was gazing absentmindedly into her tea cup. Interesting again.

"There's nothing you can do and nothing she will do as far as I can see."

Mycroft sighed.

"I can put maximum surveillance on her?"

"Why bother? You can follow her on Twitter. I believe her username is 'TheWhipHand.'"

"Yes, most amusing." Mycroft huffed, looking far from amused. His phone rang and he left the room to answer the call.

"Excuse me."

"Why does your phone make that noise?" John asked. Before anyone could answer the mentioned phone went off again.

"God, how desperate is she?" Charlie asked bitterly as Mrs Hudson walked in again.

"Could you turn that phone down a bit?" She asked pleadingly as Mycroft re-entered.

"Bond air is go, check with the Coventry lot, talk later." He said and Charlie quirked a brow at him. He returned it appraisingly.

"What else does she have?" Sherlock asked,

"The Americans wouldn't be interested in her for a couple of compromising photographs. There's more." Charlie yawned and winced.

"Please, if it's naked pictures of Bush and Clinton I'll swim the channel." She remarked tartly. John almost choked on his toast making her lean over and thump him on the back.

"Irene Adler is no longer any concern of yours, Sherlock. From now on, you will stay out of this." Mycroft said firmly and even Charlie got interested. Never tell a woman not to do something, it'll only make them curious… and him too.

"Oh will I?" He teased making older brother frown.

"Yes Sherlock you will." He replied and Charlie winked at him from beside John who looked like Christmas couldn't come quickly enough.

"Now if you'll excuse me I have a very long and arduous apology to make to a very old friend." Mycroft said and Charlie smiled.

"Tell Lizzy we'll catch up on Tuesday." She called after him.

"Please, your reservation will have to be postponed, she has a hair appointment." Mycroft called back and Charlie chuckled.

"Do give her my love." Sherlock responded, picking up his violin and playing the national anthem leisurely. Charlie began to sing it quietly. John simply laughed at England's least patriotic couple and buttered more toast.

"Bye Mycroft, sorry about Adler…" He said. The man shook his head.

"It's not your doing; I wouldn't worry too much about it." He muttered before walking away down the hall with barely a wave. Charlie paused before walking after him their voices carried but not enough to be heard clearly. He jarred a note and the apartment fell silent. A moment later the door closed and Charlie reappeared.

"Don't you complain you have a text coming in 3… 2… uh there you go." She said and walked out of the room. Sure enough another moan filled the apartment. Sherlock looked over to see John looking at him with something akin to annoyance.

"Remember what I said about pushing her too far, you're on the border mate." He said before standing and moving towards his jacket.

"Where are you going?" Sherlock asked.

"Mary's." John said and walked out. Sherlock looked around the now empty room and suddenly being alone wasn't as nice as he remembered it being.

Charlie POV:

Weeks passed and Christmas approached steadily, like some cancerous growth that refused to get gone. She was sitting in her rapidly darkening room, which she had finally taken the time to clean, sitting in the old rocking chair her adoptive parents had sent her as an early baby gift. Her eyes filled a little at the memory of receiving the gift. It had been a few days ago, a large box with a card that said, _'For you and the baby. Much love, Karen and Tim. Call sometime alright?'_ The window was open and snow was falling outside like perfect rain drops. She was roughly three and a half months along and her stomach protruded more than her self-esteem would have liked. A knock on the door made her look around. John stood in the door frame. She sighed.

"For the thousandth time John, no." She said and turned back to watch the snow.

"Oh come on, at first I thought it was just a tease but this is ridiculous. Everyone loves Christmas Charlie, well almost everyone." He said and she raised a brow sardonically.

"Yes, nearly everyone John." She said simply and stood. As she walked out of the room he followed.

"It's just a party Charlie, one night out of 365 with friends at Christmas… come on." He pleaded but she shrugged nonchalantly as they entered the kitchen. Her aunt had outdone herself with decorations. The place was festooned with tinsel and holy. Stepping around the mistletoe Charlie walked to the fridge, rolled her eyes when her gaze fell on the severed hands floating in multi-colour jars, and pulled out the milk. Sherlock was bent over time of his experiments and she leaned over to observe. After a few minutes he looked up and the pair stared at each other. John threw up his hands in defeat and moved to the living room, opening his computer and typing away. Charlie began to make her tea, aware of Sherlock's eyes on her back.

"It is just one night." He remarked quietly and her shoulders slumped before she could control the reaction.

"Not you too." She complained quietly and turned around to sip the scoulding tea as she looked at him. He shrugged.

"I predict that we're going to have to face the fact that John and your aunt are determined to have this rather pointless party and we might as well suffer through it with as much dignity as possible." He said and picked up two beakers filled with what she identified as embalming fluid and some kind of acid.

"I was thinking of just heading out for the evening… no harm, no foul." She protested weakly and he smirked.

"Do you honestly think Mrs Hudson would let you do that?" He queried and she rolled her eyes. Taking another sip she sighed.

"I know she wouldn't."

"Well then…"

"Oh, shut up!"

"Make me." He dared and she rubbed her face tiredly. She could see this ending badly already, what was she going to do when the baby came? As though answering her deliema the baby choose that moment to kick rather hard and she looked down in shock. The little tyke had taken to kicking for the past week, waking her in the middle of the night or just annoying her whenever she got comfortable. Sherlock tensed as he always did when the baby was mentioned or overtly communicated with the outside world and she decided to push the boundary a little.

"Sherlock come here." She commanded and after a moment's hesitation he did. He stood before her, sleeves rolled up and a tight expression on his face. She grabbed his hand before he could protest. Blue eyes met green and she smiled.

"Have you ever felt a baby kick?" She asked and he frowned.

"No, I never really wanted to." He said and she shrugged, pretending that his comment hadn't hurt as much as it had. Slowly she placed it on the smooth bump. After a moment it kicked and Sherlock's eyes flew wider then she'd ever seen them. He stared at her in shock.

"Doesn't that freak you out just a little?" He asked and the little one moved again. She shifted slightly and grinned up at her friend whose hand still rested on her stomach.

"Not as much anymore, although it can get annoying during the night… they're ready for an all-nighter while yours truly is ready to sleep." She said and shrugged. Sherlock removed his hand slowly and Charlie cheered inwardly. If he'd been repulsed it would have shown, or he'd have withdrawn quickly. Rubbing his face he gazed at her distended stomach curiously, as though registering its existence for the first time.

"It's not an alien Sherlock, it's a baby…" She broke off and turned away, fighting away the sudden tears that threatened to spill over. She wasn't angry with him or sad, she was frustrated…? Suddenly two arms wrapped around her and pulled her back. They both tensed, then she relaxed against a firm, warm chest and looked up into Sherlock's face. She smiled thinly and sighed.

"Why don't you like Christmas? I could understand you not believing in its importance but…" She shrugged and tried to untangle herself but his arms got in the way.

"Charlie, would answer you one question without trying to fight me?" He asked and for a moment she heard the hurt she'd first seen when she'd announced her pregnancy in his voice. She paused for a long moment then nodded slowly.

"The car accident your parents were killed in, it happened on Christmas didn't it?" He asked and she choked on a soft sob.

"Yes, 18 years ago on the day. Usually I'd call Francis or Ji… Aunty Em tries to understand but she can't, not really. She tries to get me to focus on the brighter side of Christmas; parties, cards and all that but it just doesn't help me forget." She said before looking up at him again. He looked thoughtful, which strangely enough stopped her from crying. If he'd looked sympathetic she would have lost it but his lack of reaction actually strengthened her own resolve.

"Why the sudden interest Shirley, I would have thought you'd be skipping out on this as well." She asked and he let her go to check on the now bubbling concoction he'd left on the counter. Looking back at her he frowned.

"John fights dirty.' He said simply and she cracked up. He was so chuckling to and John walked in.

"Charlie?" He asked, looking ready for yet another rejection. She knew he'd been eavesdropping and sighed.

"If my aunt hasn't given me enough reasons to like Christmas, what makes you think you could?" She asked and he grinned.

"Pure talent." He remarked and she smiled.

"Hey that was a smile, you can't take it back."

"John…"

"No that's it, it's going ahead as planned and you will be there."

"Doesn't mean I have to like it." She muttered.

"You will." God, she wanted to hit them both. Sherlock was smirking into a crucible as she stalked off.

John POV:

As soon as Charlie was out of the room John looked over at Sherlock and rubbed his face tiredly.

"I think pulling teeth would have been easier." He remarked lightly and Sherlock shrugged.

"Really, I thought that went well."

"Did you know?"

"Know what?"

"About her parents?"

"I knew they were dead."

"Did you know they died on Christmas?"

"It wasn't hard to deduce."

"Sherlock…"

"John."

"You're impossible. How was it?" He asked and his friend's head snapped up quick enough to cause severe whiplash.

"The baby?" John clarified and Sherlock's face became a little guarded.

"It was fine." He said and went back to the crucible. John continued to look at him until he looked up again, making the dark haired man sigh and put the chemicals away.

"John it was a baby, nothing more nothing less…"

"It's Charlie's baby." John remarked and Sherlock paused.

"Yes it is." He said and John was almost sure the man sounded bitter.

"Have you asked her outright who the father is?"

"No, it's her business."

"Since when have you cared about that?"

"Since…"

"Yes?"

"Never mind. Haven't you got decorating to do?"

"Possibly but this is far more interesting."

"John just leave it." Sherlock begged and John felt a jolt rip through him as he saw a flash of pain flare in his friend's usually expressionless blue eyes.

"Alright, what are you going to get her?"

"I have no idea."

"Christmas is in a few days, you might want to hurry."

"Yes sir." Sherlock muttered as he moved to the door.

"Oh and Sherlock?" John asked as he stirred the coffee he'd been making while they talked. The detective paused, hand on his jacket.

"Babies like music." He said and turned away. His friend strode off with a sniff and John grinned into his coffee. Those two were going to be fine.

Charlie POV:

She could hear music as she approached 221 Baker Street. She pulled her coat closer around her and with a small sigh opened the door and mounted the stairs. Her aunt stood at the top of the stairs.

"Oh Charlie dear you're home I th…" Her voice trailed off as she took in her niece's appearance. Charlie grinned and walked into her room, changing quickly into her dress as 'We wish you a merry Christmas' drifted down the hall. She took in the shimmering green dress she'd bought on a whim a few days previous and sighed.

"Here goes nothing." She muttered, pulling a brush through her hair, attaching a pair of ear rings and steeping into her heels as she went. Sherlock finished with a flourish as she stepped into the room and she clapped along with the others. He looked up and his eyes widened a fraction as they took her in, everyone's gazes followed his and she felt her cheeks heat slightly as Lestrade, John, his latest girlfriend and her aunt all stared. Lestrade looked like someone had hit him in the face and John simply smiled, despite the shock in his face.

"Too much?" She queried and a hand went up to touch her newly cut hair. It reached just past her ears once more and a long side fringe shielded the left side of her face. The strapless green dress she wore made her eyes and hair stand out, reaching to just below her knees it fanned out from just above her baby bump, effectively covering it. A strap of black satin wrapped around her waist just below her breast which were covered by a sweet heart neckline. Her heels were only two inches and black.

"You look beautiful." Her aunt assured her and remembering Sherlock's performance Charlie grinned and clapped her hands.

"That was great Shirley." She said and he bowed melodramatically.

"Lovely, Sherlock! That was lovely!" Mrs Hudson applauded.

"Marvellous." John said.

"I wish you could have worn the antlers!" Aunty Em announced, and Charlie smiled as John handed her a drink. She glanced at it and paled.

"No alcohol remember?" She said and her hand went to her belly. John smacked himself on the forehead and replaced the champagne with lemonade. She sighed as Sherlock got Jeanette's name wrong, again.

"No, no I can do this. Sarah was the doctor and then there was the one with the spots and then the one with the nose…who was after the boring teacher?"

"No-one." Replied Jeanette frostily.

"Jeanette! Ah, process of elimination." Sherlock announced and Charlie hid her laugh as a choking fit. Sherlock winked surreptiously by the fireplace. The sound of feet on the stairwell made her turn and she grinned as Molly appeared on the landing, several bags in tow. Rushing to take them she smiled at the unfortunate mortician.

"Molls! Merry Christmas!" She announced and kissed her cheek,

"There's wine or champagne ready if you want it?"

"Ooh, champagne please!" She grinned as she peeled off her coat. Her dress was black with a line of sparkling fake diamonds along the top and spaghetti straps holding it up. She looked fantastic and as she took in Charlie's dress her own eyes sparkled.

"You looked beautiful." She whispered and Charlie smiled.

"Me, look at you… stunning." She said and the brunette grinned. They walked into the room and giggling a little Charlie smiled as John muttered 'Holy Mary' and Lestrade's jaw dropped.

"Thanks! Thought I'd show it off. Christmas drinks then?"

Mrs Hudson nodded.

"It's the one day a year where the boys have to be nice to me." She muttered and Charlie nodded although her expression turned wistful.

Lestrade offered Molly a drink and she blushed. Charlie turned as she overheard John and Sherlock bickering again, honestly even on Christmas… not that it mattered too much.

"You've got a photograph of me wearing _that hat_?" Sherlock demanded.

"People like the hat."

"No they don't…what people?" Charlie sniggered and took a sip of her lemonade as Lestrade approached.

"How are you?" He asked and she nodded tiredly.

"Still working and healthy, can't complain." She said and he shook his head.

"How's the baby?" He asked.

"Just started kicking for real." She announced proudly and the kind inspector grinned.

"Aha a soccer player, do you know what it is yet?"

"I want a surprise, I don't get enough of them anymore."

"You're serious? Of course you are." He muttered and she laughed. Molly's voice could be heard making a joke but no-one really laughed. Cautiously Charlie continued to speak and the room picked up once more.

"I wasn't expecting to see you, I thought you were going to be in Dorset for Christmas?"

"That's first thing in the morning, me and the wife, we're back together. It's all sorted." He sounded very tired, but smiled. Charlie bit her lip and hoped to hell Sherlock wouldn't…

"No she's sleeping with a PE teacher." He noted and Charlie smacked him upside the head as Lestrade's face fell. Molly tried to restart conversation.

"And John I hear you're visiting your sister?"

"Yeah." He said and a proud look came onto his face.

"First time ever she's cleaned up her act. She's off the booze."

"Nope." Sherlock corrected, Charlie was a hand's breadth from throwing her drink at him but refrained. It was after all Aunty Em's Christmas party.

"Shut up Sherlock!" John's protest warned him he was being an ass, but he still persevered. There was a glint in his eye that spelt danger, and it landed on the unfortunate Molly.

"I see you've got a new boyfriend, Molly, and you're serious about him." He said and Charlie froze. Everyone in the room froze and Charlie felt her stomach drop as Sherlock went on.

"What? Sorry, what?" Molly frowned, standing in the middle of the room she had no protection from the oncoming storm.

"In fact you're seeing him this very night and giving him a gift."

"Sherlock, shut up and have a drink." Lestrade tried, his face was becoming hard as granite. Charlie squeezed her glass hard unable to call out, which was a first. Her knuckles whitened and she bit her lip. "Oh, come on, surely you've all seen the present at the top of the bag. Perfectly wrapped, with a bow. All the others are slapdash at best. The paper is familiar… It's for someone special then. And you're serious about him, suggested by the fact that you're giving him a gift at all…" He stopped to read the card and fell silent. Charlie felt the glass in her hand crack as she looked over at Molly who looked as though someone had just carved her heart out of her chest, threw it to the ground and danced upon it. Fighting the urge to hit him she walked over and took the little, lovingly wrapped parcel from his hands. He looked at her, stark realisation in his eye, her own narrowed and she subtly indicated to Molly who had begun to cry.

"You always say such horrible things. Always. To me, to John. Always." She said stiffly. Sherlock looked away then back at her, walking over he leaned in. His words were barely audible for others but Charlie heard and smiled thinly.

"I am sorry, forgive me. Merry Christmas Molly Hooper."

He kissed her cheek. The poor girl's eyes fluttered shut for a moment and as he stepped back, Irene's breathy moan echoed through the flat. Molly started, simply beside herself with embarrassment by this point.

"That wasn't me!"

"No, it was me."

"My God, really?" Burst Lestrade from the kitchen. Charlie would have cackled but suddenly this Christmas had become just as bad as the last 18.

"My phone." He responded.

"Fifty seven." John piped up, Charlie bit her lip. He wasn't making this any easier.

"Fifty seven of those texts. The one's I've heard at least."

Charlie's glass finally smashed, her death grip finally shattering the thing and sending shards everywhere. Everyone turned to look and she stared down at the spreading crimson on her palms. Blood began to drip and she staggered backwards.

"Charlie!" Her aunt called but she ignored her. Stumbling she turned on her heel and grabbed her coat, wrenching it off the hook and taking to the stairs within seconds she was out in the frozen night air and pelting for all she was worth down the street. She could feel her tears streaming down her face, could feel them freezing to her face and mixing with the blood she accidently smeared across her face in the process of wiping them away. Finally she stopped, aware of how stupid she was being and collapsed against the brick wall of an under croft. She sat and wrapped the coat tighter around herself and tried in vain to see the silver lining… all the clouds in her vision were black.

Sherlock POV:

The whole flat was silent. After a single second John leapt to his feet and glared at Sherlock so spitefully if his eyes had made fire Sherlock knew he'd be history, and a pile of ash.

"Well Sherlock I hope your bloody pleased with yourself. Well done, you've really outdone yourself this time." He said and began to clap slowly and sarcastically. Everyone in the room stared between the two. Mrs Hudson suddenly burst into tears.

"She's bleeding, she out there bleeding… what are you going to do?" She demanded and John approached her, kneeling down and taking her shoulders gently.

"I'll go and find her." He said but Sherlock finally shook himself out of the daze he'd put himself in.

"No, I'll go." He said and moved past everyone to the door, grabbing his coat on the fly and jumping the stairs completely. He looked around the quiet street and saw a homeless man stumble down the street towards him. He approached and held out a five dollar note.

"Have you seen a woman, about this tall, red hair and bleeding?" He asked and the man peered up at him sadly.

"Yeah, but why should I tell you… seems to me she wants to be left alone." He said and Sherlock felt strangely uncomfortable beneath his stare.

"Did you hurt her?" The man asked and Sherlock tilted his head in thought.

"I hope not." He said after a moment and the old man smirked. He sighed and tucked his hands into his pockets before indicating with his head down the street.

"She flew that way, about two minutes ago… if you find her you better make it right." He said and moved off stumbling away into the snowy dark. Sherlock wasted no time and immediately took off down the road. A splash of blood caught his eye and then another. Slowly a trail formed out of the dark and he followed it until he could hear her. She was singing, something he hadn't heard her do in a very long time. He approached slowly, suddenly unsure how to react around her. Her hands were bloody, the snow around her was stained crimson. She had one hand wrapped around her stomach and the other held to her mouth, as though trying to stem the flow of choking sobs that threatened to spill out. Usually he would have sneered. Emotions threatened reasoning, they undermined the efforts of rationality, they were unpredictable and lead to mess and vulgarity yet somehow seeing Charlie cry herself into oblivion on a winter's street corner he couldn't find anything to say. No words of reason, no comforting reality. Just the two of them and her quiet sobs.

"Charlie?" He called out finally and she whirled around, staggering to her feet. Her hair was limp against her thin cheeks, her coat was soaked through and her skin was splashed with colour almost as vibrant as her hair. She looked awful and she knew it. Immediately she turned away.

"What do you want?" She asked and her words echoed off the tunnel around them.

"Please come back, everyone's worried about you." He said gently and she looked over her shoulder to sneer at him.

"Everyone you say? No Sherlock, no one cares. I have the luck of living with two men who find the cases involving death more thrilling than those of life, the only living family member I have that I can tolerate is unknowingly bringing back the worst memories of my life for the sake of one night's revelry and I'm three and a half months pregnant to a guy who…" She paused staring around herself as though suddenly lost.

"I'll ask you again Mr Holmes, what do you want?" She asked firmly and he sighed.

"For you to come back home." He said simply and she turned slowly to face him. Her green eyes seemed to blaze at him from beneath her newly cut fringe.

"I was ten when it happened." She remarked softly surprising him.

"The accident I mean. We were travelling back from a Christmas party, I remember being half asleep in the back seat… Francis and my Dad were arguing yet again and my Mum was laughing to herself, she always carried on like she knew some great private joke that no one else was ever allowed to know." She recounted wistfully. Her eye seemed to glaze over a little. She looked at him and beckoned him closer. He approached and she sat down against the wall, pulling him down beside her. They sat in silence for a while and she looked over at him and smiled.

"I freaked a few people out didn't I?" She asked and he rolled his eyes.

"I don't see how."

"I do."

There was silence and she sniffed slightly.

"Sherlock, I have a feeling that Irene… that something bad is going to happen to her." She said and he looked at her strangely.

"Is this a gut feeling?"

"Yes."

"You know my views on them?"

"Yes."

"And yet you still use them."

"I do because I'm a woman Sherlock, intuition is our greatest gift."

"That's crap and you know it."

"Prove to me that I'm wrong. Go on. Worse-case scenario I look like an idiot, or I'm completely right, depending on how you look at things." He looked at her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him and rested her head against his chest.

"See this is nice, I could live with this." She said quietly, almost to herself but he caught it. He gazed down at her and quirked a brow. About to speak he paused as his phone went off. Looking at the screen he groaned.

"I think you're going to find Irene Adler tonight." Mycroft's voice drifted through the phone and he frowned.

"We already know where she is. As you were kind enough to point out, it hardly matters." He muttered and looked at Charlie.

"Loud speaker." She mouthed and he immediately switched it on.

"No, I mean you're going to find her dead."

**Holy-god-damned-tomatoes that took a while, everyone wanting to use the only computer with internet in our house and shit. Well I hope you all liked it, I thought I might have more time to do the crash retelling but it just didn't work out that way. Review my darlings it gives me wings!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

**Hurray, already doing better than my last one. Five chapters and more to go. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed any of my stories, especially my Sherlock ones. Peace to all and hope you enjoy this instalment. **

Charlie POV:

She stared at the phone in shock. Looking up at Sherlock she swallowed. She took the phone and cleared her throat before speaking.

"Mycroft, what do you mean?" She demanded and heard the poor man sigh.

"Exactly what I said, you might want to accompany him down here… they need to identify her, to make sure." He said and Charlie bit her lip, looking over at Sherlock who looked somewhat shell shocked.

"Alright, St. Barts in five." She said and hung up. Dusting herself off she grabbed her friend's hand and hauled him up, despite the dried blood. Together they walked back to the flat and announced to John and Molly what had happened.

"Molly, I know it's Christmas but…" Charlie began but the brunette smiled, already pulling her coat on. The trio left and hailed a cab, Sherlock strangely edgy as they approached. Charlie brought her hand to rest on his thigh, something that had been missed by Mycroft but was definitely noticed by Molly. They entered the hospital and delved into the morgue. Molly had hastily donned a lab coat over her party dress once. Charlie sat down next to the slab and looked down at the sheeted body. She felt strangely empty. Not sad for the woman beside her nor was she happy either. Sherlock looked at his brother expectantly.

"How do you figure it's her?" He asked and Mycroft sighed heavily.

"The only one who fitted the description. Had her brought here, your home away from home."

"The face is a bit sort of bashed-up so it might be a bit difficult." Molly said and after a moment's hesitation pulled the sheet back, just enough to see the woman's face, if that's what you wanted to call it. By a stretch of her imagination Charlie might have been able to identify Adler but she was tired and her imagination was not up to it right now. She and Sherlock looked at each other, then looked away doggedly.

"That's her isn't it?" Asked Mycroft, Sherlock frowned.

"Show me the rest of her." He demanded.

Molly peeled back the rest of the sheet and Sherlock's piercing eyes flickered over the body revealed. Charlie did the same and flinched.

"That's her." They said in unison and Charlie stood. Sherlock walked off and Mycroft nodded in Molly's direction.

"Thank you, Miss Hooper."

"Who is she?" Cut in Molly.

"How did Sherlock recognise her from…not her face?" She asked and Charlie slouched a tad. They both looked at her and she shrugged.

"Not my place." She said and walked out after Sherlock, catching him in the corridor outside. He was leaning against a window and as she approached turned slightly. She moved to stand beside him and they were soon joined by Mycroft. Charlie quirked a brow he held out a single cigarette towards his younger brother.

"Just one?" He asked and Charlie glared at him warningly. He ignored her.

"Why?" He took it and looked suspiciously at his brother,

"You're being suspiciously bearable…and smoking indoors…isn't that one of those law thingys?" He queried. Mycroft shrugged.

"We're in a morgue, there's only so much harm we can do." He said and Charlie smiled, her morbid sense of humour resurfacing momentarily.

"We're all heading there one day." She muttered and the two brother's nodded. Sherlock chuckled and lit it, putting it to his lips and inhaling. She flinched but let him.

"How did you know she was dead?"

"She had an item in her possession, one she said her life depended on…she chose to give it up." He said and Charlie frowned. That didn't seem like Adler, not at least the one she knew.

"Where is it now?"

Sherlock's lips lifted slightly at the corners.

"Safe." Then he paused and looked at the cigarette,

"This is _low tar_…"

"How could you possibly know that?" Charlie demanded whilst Mycroft simply raised an eyebrow and didn't comment. Sherlock took another drag and Charlie stepped away, hand moving to her stomach. The two men looked at her and both appeared slightly apologetic. Then Mycroft spoke.

"Well you barely knew her." He said to his brother, causing the younger to nod stiffly.

"Hmm." Agreed Sherlock lowly, he stubbed out the cigarette and offered his arm to Charlie who accepted it gracefully. Mycroft's lips tightened and he cleared his throat.

"Yes, well…Merry Christmas Sherlock." He said as they walked away. Charlie glanced behind her to see him on the phone. She squeezed Sherlock's arm tightly and rested her head against his shoulder.

"Merry Christmas Shirley."

"Merry Christmas Charlotte."

John POV: 

John's phone rang and he hurriedly picked it up, hoping it was Charlie. No such luck.

"Hello?"

"He's on his way. Have you found anything?" Mycroft's voice reverberated down the line. He bit his lip.

"No, did he take the cigarette?" He asked worriedly.

"Yes."

"Shit." He said and Mrs Hudson wailed slightly.

"He's coming, ten minutes." He said.

"There's nothing in the bedroom." She replied,

"Oh look at that snow …"

"It looks like he's clean, we've tried all the usual places." John told Mycroft,

"Are you sure tonight's a danger night?"

"No, but then I never am." He said and John knew now was a time they needed Charlie, thank god she was around. Sherlock's moods could be extremely neurotic and John was sure at times his friend was on the easier side of bi-polar. John sighed.

"You'll have to stay with him John."

"I've got plans…" He protested weakly.

"No you don't." Mycroft responded, hanging up. John sighed and sat beside Jeanette.

"I'm so sorry…" He said and she smiled brightly. She shook her head.

"You know my friends are wrong about you." She said and he sat down beside her.

"Hmm?"

"You're a great boyfriend."

John frowned in surprise.

"Okay, that's good. I mean, I always thought I was great…"

She nodded.

"Sherlock Holmes is very lucky to have you." She started picking up her things hurriedly. John felt his stomach sink like lead. Not again.

"Oh Jeanette, please…"

"No, I mean it. It's heart-warming. You'll do anything for him." She stood up,

"I mean Sherlock can't even tell your girlfriends apart!" She said and walked out.

"Well, that went well." Mrs Hudson said sarcastically and John could only sigh as he heard the front door slam.

"Ready for round two?" He asked and she straightened like a soldier before battle.

"As I'll ever be."

Charlie POV:

The apartment was silent when they got back, making Charlie smirk.

"I think the party's over." She muttered and Sherlock looked at her.

"Thank god." He whispered back and she nodded. Together they mounted the stairs and entered the living room where her aunt and John stood waiting. Sick of being polite they both ignore them and moved deeper into the room. Charlie removed her shoes, her coat and finally her dress, making John's eyes pop slightly and her Aunt gasp. Sherlock was unmoved and for once she wasn't offended. He too removed his shoes and coat but remained mostly dressed as he picked up his violin. The baby kicked and she looked down. Sherlock saw her and raised the violin. At the first note the baby settled, stilling almost instantly as the flat filled with beautiful rather melancholy music. Sighing Charlie curled up on the couch and flicked her hair out of her face as she gazed down into her bandaged palms.

"Go to bed you two. Merry Christmas." She muttered at the two hoverers who started and after hurried goodnights and a quick kiss from her aunt, departed for the night. Sherlock continued to play, never even noticing their departure. Charlie stretched out a hand and tugged on his sleeve. He looked at her.

"A request?" She asked and he smiled tightly, pausing the flow of notes. Almost immediately the baby kicked, unhappy at the sudden silence.

"Oh, we don't like that do we?" She directed towards her stomach and Sherlock smirked.

"Although it's getting hard to see you bub with Mum's breasts in the way and all that." She remarked and Sherlock finally snorted.

"Canon?" She asked and he nodded.

"Interesting choice." He remarked and she grinned.

"I'm an interesting girl, some of the time." She said dryly. He shook his head bemusedly and restarted. Baby settled and her own exhaustion creeping up on her Charlie was aware of only the music and the sudden chill in the air. She shivered. Once again the music stopped but a moment later a warm something covered her and she snuggled into the couch. To the sound on a single violin of Christmas morning she drifted off the sleep, for once not dreaming of bloody snow and freezing cold.

She awoke the next morning to see Sherlock curled up on the end of the couch. Their legs entangled beneath his coat she smiled and moved stealthily out from underneath the warm coat. She paused by his head and crouched down, smoothing his forehead which was slightly crinkled. She leaned forwards and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek before stepping back to creep down the corridor, embarrassingly enough in only her bra and panties. Smiling she pulled on the only pair of jeans that fit her anymore and a warm turtleneck before brushing her teeth and hair in the bathroom. When she arrived back in the living room, John was awake and so was Sherlock. He was composing again. She sat down and listened.

"I see you're composing again Sherlock." John remarked casually.

"It helps me think."

"What are you thinking about?"

Sherlock suddenly placed the violin down and walked over to his dressing gown, flung over the back of John's chair with its Union Jack pillow.

"The counter on your blog is still stuck at 1,895." He shot and John nodded.

"Yeah it's faulty, I can't seem to fix it."

"Faulty or you've been hacked and it's a message."

He whipped a camera phone, Charlie frowned as she realised it was in fact Adler's, and typed the four digits in. An angry noise emanated from the phone and he scowled blackly at it.

"Just faulty."

New Year's Eve rolled around quicker than Charlie had thought possible. She was now wearing the pair of earrings John had got her for Christmas, a set of beautiful sterling silver amethyst drops, and admiring them in the little compact she carried everywhere. Sherlock was still working on that same piece of music, often pausing to stare at Irene Adler's camera phone before returning to his violin. He had been quieter than usual, since Adler's death and it had become her chore to make sure he actually ate and slept. She sat by him and listened, reading most of the time and allowing herself a few hours respite from work. On New Year's Eve John left the flat. Charlie watched him leave through semi-closed eyelids and smiled. Sherlock finally paused in his playing and moved to the window. He watched for a few minutes before placing his violin down and picking up his coat.

"Do you wish to come?" He asked and she looked at him. He looked edgy but stern. She shook her head.

"You don't want me or need me there." She said and he began to open his mouth but she smiled.

"Go on, you'll miss him." She said and Sherlock grinned briefly.

"What did I do to deserve you?" He asked and she pulled a face.

"Nothing, you owe me big." She said, more thrown into that single sentence then he would possibly ever know. He threw the phone he'd been fondling.

"Dressing gown." He said and she smiled. Saluting him. He turned to walk out of the flat. She smiled as the flat finally fell silent. After depositing the phone into the pocket of his dressing gown she curled up on the couch and closed her eyes.

"A little nap can't hurt." She reasoned and fell asleep, the baby kicking quietly.

John POV:

It was frigidly cold outside and he shivered as he walked down the street. A woman in black called his name.

"John?"

"Yeah?" He turned,

"Hello."

She walked towards him. He thought he recognised her from somewhere but shook his head.

"So, any plans for tonight?"

He thought briefly of his current plans to spend the evening watching crap telly and drinking as much as he could before work restarted.

"Um, uh, nothing fixed." He paused,

"Nothing I couldn't heartlessly abandon…you have any ideas?"

"One." She smiled as a black car drove up beside him. He rolled his eyes. The game was on yet again. Mycroft and his theatrics.

"You know Mycroft could just phone me, if he didn't have this bloody stupid power complex." He remarked and the woman smiled. He got into the car anyway and as he looked out of the window, the hustle and bustle of London emptied out somewhat as they approached what appeared to be an empty factory. The woman walked him up some stairs and along a corridor. He followed close behind, a little apprehensive. Surely this wasn't necessary anymore.

"Couldn't we just go to a café? Sherlock doesn't follow me everywhere."

"Through there." She gestured, pointing ahead of her. He walked in that direction into another corridor, choosing his words carefully before he said them.

His voice trailed off as he turned and came face to face with Irene Adler.

"Hello, Doctor Watson." He said and he felt fury well inside him at the sound of her husky voice. He stared for a moment.

"You're not Mycroft Holmes…nor are you dead." He said after a moment.

"No I am not, on both counts." She wore black, as if mourning her own elaborately faked death.

"You were dead on a slab. It was definitely you." John said and thought back on his two friend who'd separately confirmed this fact.

"DNA tests are only as good as the records you keep." He said and John rolled his eyes.

"And I bet you know the record keeper?"

She shrugged.

"I know what he likes. And I needed to disappear."

John rolled his eyes, again.

"Then how come I can see you? I don't even want to." He said and she laughed coldly.

"Look, I made a mistake," She raised her hands defensively,

"I sent something to Sherlock for safekeeping and now I need it back, so I need your help."

John shook his head. It wasn't his problem and he didn't care an ounce.

"No."

"It's for his own safety." She said and he snorted, not impressed.

"So is this."

John laughed.

"Tell him you're alive, although I'd be careful, Charlie might just decide to kill you. You know what, I'll tell him myself, and I still won't help you." He said firmly. As he walked away she called after him, desperation evident in her voice.

"What do I say?" She asked and he shrugged.

"What do you normally say?" He demanded, whirling around,

"You've texted him a lot!"

"And caused a lot of problems doing so." He muttered darkly.

"Just the usual stuff." She defended.

"There is no usual, not in this case."

She brought another phone out of her pocket and tapped the screen.

"Good morning. I like your funny hat. You look sexy on Crimewatch, let's have dinner. I'm not hungry, let's have dinner." She said out loud. John looked a cross between confused and furious.

"You…flirted…with Sherlock Holmes?" He demanded and suddenly knew the reason behind Charlie's depressive states. How he hated this woman.

"At him. He never replies."

John half laughed, his breath fogging. Thank god for small miracles.

"No, Sherlock always replies. To everything. He's Mr. Punchline. He will outlive God trying to have the last word."

Irene smirked.

"Does that make me special?"

"I don't know, maybe. Then again maybe not."

Irene sighed.

"Ah yes, the wonderful Miss Myers. He likes her a lot doesn't he?" She asked and John folded his arms over his chest.

"As much as he can I believe so." He replied tartly.

"I get the impression she doesn't like me all that much." She said and John quirked a brow.

"You don't say?" John retorted and she smiled.

"Very well." She said and tapped her phone a few times,

"There, 'I'm not dead, let's have dinner.'" She said and he blinked. Both jumped as a familiar breathy moan was heard nearby. It was Sherlock's phone. Which meant… John whirled around and caught the tail end of a coat as it disappeared behind a wall. He turned back to Adler and smirked as the blood drained from her face.

"Good day Miss Adler." He said dryly and turning, left the silent factory.

Charlie POV:

She awoke sometime later to the sound of Aunty Em cleaning. The hoover was on and she felt something pop in her back as she stretched. She picked up her Digital Fortress with a smile just as a loud banging from the floor below could be heard.

"Aunty Em, you alright?" She called. Silence. She froze and put down the book. Moving into the kitchen she drew out one of the drawers and removed a large knife from within its depths. Cautiously she moved to the doorway. Then her aunt screamed.

"Aunty Em!" She called and whacked herself mentally for giving away her position. American male voices sounded up the stairs and she swore violently.

"Upstairs!" A voice that seemed to be in charge commanded and she sighed. She stood slightly to the left of the door, back pressed against the wall so they would enter on her right without seeing her. Listening to the footsteps she tried to control her breathing. Three sets of heavier ones and a soft dragging that she assumed was her aunt. She gritted her teeth. Her aunt was sobbing. A thud and a whimper informed her that they'd punched her, quite hard and she fought the urge to jump out now and lose her advantage. She saw red as the leading man entered. All though process left and she lunged at him. He blocked the knife but couldn't avoid her fists and kicks which brought him down with a sharp cry. His mate raced in and threw himself at her. She fell with a gasp, twisting to land on her forearms. The pain was agonising and she tried to crawl away. The knife she'd abandoned suddenly appeared at her back and she froze.

"Please get up Miss Myers." A voice commanded and she complied, all the fight draining out of her. Both women were then herded into the middle of the room, where her aunt hugged the pregnant woman to her protectively. The three Americans pulled guns from their waistbands, aiming them at the two women as the ringleader of the trio, whom she recognised from the encounter at Adler's house stood before them, rubbing his jaw which had darkened nicely from her fists.

"Right then," His voice was nasally due to the break,

"Where's the camera phone?"

"What phone?" Asked Aunty Jean quietly, tugging at her niece's sleeve.

"Charlie what's he on about?"

"I think we need a little talk with Miss Myers here, if you two would be so kind, please escort Mrs Hudson to the back room over there while we interrogate?"

Mrs Hudson grasped at Charlie's jumper in a mixture of mock and genuine worry, whispering in her ear.

"Where is it?" She asked and Charlie thought back on her earlier conversation with Sherlock. He'd put the phone… in the dressing gown.

"Dressing gown." She murmured and a moment later they'd torn her aunt away from her, throwing her into Sherlock's bedroom, one man standing by the door and the other returning to the main room, all three still pointing their guns at Charlie.

"Well Miss Myers, it's lovely to see you again. Now, where is it?" The man asked. Looking up at them she was reminded of a case long ago, involving certain Chinese smugglers and smiled smugly.

"_Póg mo thóin."_ She said firmly and braced herself as the first blow caught her on the side of the head. She straightened and rolled her neck with false bravado.

"Now Miss Myers, I'm only going to ask you politely one more time. Where is it?" He asked and she sighed.

"A_madá."_ She said simple and cried out as he swung again, catching her on the chest and planting her into the floor.

Sherlock POV:

Sherlock approached 221B in a sort of daze. Irene was alive, after all this… he froze as his gaze landed on the door, which was kicked in, it's lock broken. He pushed it open cautiously, then the inner door, the glass cool against his palm. He surveyed the area carefully. There were cleaning products in the hallway but all the products still in the box, even the rubber gloves still folded over the side, unused. Not good. His silvery blue eyes darted around the room. Shoe scuffs on the wall, a man, possibly two, had dragged someone up the stairs… Mrs Hudson judging by the scratch marks that accompanied the scuffs and chips of nail polish still in the wood of the wall where she'd clawed at the surface, trying to gain purchase. He flinched at the thought. Charlie! Suddenly he was making his way up the stairs. The door had been closed and he flung it open to reveal the two most important women in his life strapped to chairs in the middle of the room. Each had a man behind them although Mrs Hudson's held a gun and Charlie's… had a knife held to her stomach. She was frozen in place and she looked up at him through a mariad of bruises. Her lower lip was split and a glowing bruise was darkening over her temple. He ground his teeth to keep from leeping across the room and throwing them all out the window. Mrs Hudson wasn't looking much better, bruises also flowering on her cheeks, her clothes askew. Inside him, something began to crumble and break. These two were definitely worth more than anyone gave them credit for, they obviously hadn't caved hence the still present henchmen. Mrs Hudson sobbed as he entered, looking up.

"Oh Sherlock, Sherlock…." She cried and Charlie placed a gentle hand on her aunts. The knife dug in a little and she looked up at her captor.

"Oi, hands and blades off the merchandise." She demanded and scowled. He fought a smirked. She looked at him and something akin to relief crossed her face. She green eyes flicked briefly to the man beside her aunt, he was the leader then.

"Don't snivel Mrs Hudson, it'll do nothing to impede the flight of a bullet."

Charlie frowned in annoyance but simply squeezed her aunt's hand tighter.

"Oh please, sorry Sherlock…."

The man holding a gun to Mrs Hudson's head had a growing bruise on his face as well as a crooked nose. Something Sherlock immediately tied to the subtly smirking Charlie.

"I believe you have something we want, Mr Holmes." The man said.

"Then why don't you ask for it?"

He reached forwards, pushing Charlie's sleeve up her arm slightly revealing a long bleeding scar which bleed quite steadily through the crimson fabric of her jumper. Charlie winced slightly as he squeezed her forearm briefly.

"Well we've been asking these two lovely ladies, but this one," he gestured to Mrs Hudson,

"Doesn't seem to know anything and your pretty friend here hasn't said a word of English from the moment we arrived." He announced.

"Actually…" She began but was silenced by the man's fist slamming into her head again. She rocked forwards and hung limp for a few moments gathering her wits before straightening and glaring at the man dazedly. Sherlock nearly exploded with rage.

"Anyway…you know what I'm looking for, don't you Mr Holmes?"

He looked up, eyes cataloguing the man's weaknesses, the parts of his body that would hurt the most when impacted while part of his mind formulated varying plans to wipe the smug grin off of his face.

"I believe I do."

He stepped back.

"First get rid of your boys."

"Why?"

"I dislike being outnumbered, it makes for too much stupid in the room."

Charlie's split lip pulled upwards in a small smile.

"You two go to the car." Commanded the ringleader.

"Then get into the car and drive away. Don't try to trick me, you know who I am, it doesn't work."

They left and Sherlock nodded.

"Next you can stop pointing a gun at me."

"So you can point a gun at me?" The American asked, raising an eyebrow sardonically.

"I'm unarmed."

"Mind if I check?"

"Oh I insist."

Sherlock raised his hands and as the American began to check his coat, walking around him to check he didn't have a gun tucked into the back of his trousers. Sherlock rolled his eyes at Charlie who bit her lip gently to stifle her giggle and turned, spraying the man in the eyes with a can of polish, which he'd nicked from downstairs, before head butting him hard. The man fell motionless to the ground and Sherlock looked very pleased with himself.

"Moron." He announced smugly before he turned and knelt in front of the two women, placing his hands on those of Mrs Hudson. He untied her first, not because she was more important but because she looked ready to pass out.

"You're alright now, you're alright." He muttered before turning to Charlie and gently removing the ropes from around her wrists and ankles.

She pushed herself up from the chair shakily the blanched and staggered. He was beside her in a second, hands gently checking her for more injury.

"She's fallen a few time Sherlock, the baby…" Mrs Hudson said and Charlie groaned. A strange sense of panic over took him and he pressed his hands shyly on her belly, gently pressing lightly. Charlie relaxed and smiled at him.

"I think it's alright, couldn't help to get a medical professional around here soon but I'm not terminating." She said and surprisingly he groaned in relief. That shocked her and she placed a hand on his cheek, smoothing the skin softly before standing and moving to help her aunt. He stood up and turned to the fallen man with venom in his eyes.

When John finally got home the door lock was broken and a piece of paper with 'Crime in progress, please disturb' written on it was attached to the door knocker. The sign was courtesy of Charlie whose good mood had returned almost immediately when it became apparent she was fine. "What's going on?" He demanded as he walked into the living room. Mrs Hudson was sat on the sofa, Charlie, looking a little worse for wear, was beside her with her arms around her in a supportive embrace. Sherlock was sitting by the doorway, pointing a gun at a man tied to a chair in the centre of the room, a thick line of bruises across his face and silver tape across his mouth.

"Jesus, what the hell is happening?" He demanded.

"Mrs Hudson and Charlie have been attacked by an American; I am restoring balance to the universe." Sherlock said with a flair of traditional Holmes melodrama. He looked to the two women again.

"Oh my God…are you alright?" He took in their bruised faces,

"Jesus, what have they done to you?"

Mrs Hudson was still crying.

"Oh, I'm just being so silly!" She was shaking and Charlie hugged her closer, only wincing when her aunt touched her tender chest. Sherlock nodded.

"Downstairs, take her downstairs and look after her. Charlie you go stay if you want." He said and John protested.

"You're injured. Let me look at your injuries." She frowned and shook her head. She watched as he left with her aunt before the pair turned back to the tied up American. Sherlock pulled out his phone.

"Lestrade, we've had a break in at Baker Street. Send your least irritating officers and an ambulance. Oh no, no, no, no, no, we're fine. No it's the, uh, it's the burglar, he's got himself rather badly injured." Sherlock said and Charlie moved to stand beside him. He pulled her close and wrapped an arm around her waist securely.

"Oh yes well… he fell out of a window." He muttered,

"A fractured skull, a suspected punctured lung and a broken radius." Before he hung up. The American's eyes widened and Charlie smiled like a kid on a sugar high. She moved to the window and threw it open, breathing in the smoggy London air with more relish than usual. Sherlock turned to the man and before anyone could react landed a staggering blow to his chest. Right where he'd hurt Charlie. He felt the ribs give way beneath his fist and smiled. Another blow and then another followed and finally between the two of them they carried him to the window.

"This has got to mean we're best friends Shirley." Charlie said and he paused, looking at her oddly.

"Only best friends attempt to mortally injured Americans together." She announced and he grinned. She counted to three and on the final count the let go, sending the man squalling through the air. _CRASH_ ! From downstairs they could hear Mrs Hudson remark.

"Ooh…that was right on my bins."

Sherlock stood by Lestrade as the ambulance pulled away. Charlie stood beside him, trying to look slightly remorseful, and failing miserably.

"So," Spoke the man beside him,

"Exactly how many times did he fall out of the window?"

Sherlock shrugged.

"Oh it's all a bit of a blur Detective Inspector…I lost count." Charlie smiled up at Lestrade and the man flinched at the sight of her bruises.

"They'll go down soon enough. You staying for tea?"

"Nah, I should get back to the station, you look after yourself Charlie otherwise we have to deal with him alone." He indicated with his head towards an irritated Sherlock causing Charlie to smirk broadly

"Oh I'll try. Thanks again."

He shrugged.

"No problem, just doing my job."

He walked off after a final wave. She touched his arm gently and smiled.

"Come inside, you've had quite enough for one day don't you think?" She asked and he nodded.

"John told you then?"

"About Adler? Yeah. I don't like the woman, actually that's an understatement, but I suppose it's not too bad a thing she's still breathing." She remarked and froze, looking up at him. He raised an eyebrow, he didn't think their fight was that bad. It was her turn to shrug.

She tugged at his arm and he followed her inside. John was talking to Mrs Hudson as they entered.

"You can sleep up in our flat tonight, you shouldn't be on your own." He was saying and Charlie smiled as she watched.

"No…" she protested weakly. Sherlock sighed.

"She's fine."

"No she's not, look at her. She's got to take some time away from Baker street… is there anyone you could stay with?" He asked and Charlie sighed. Charlie snorted.

"Just think over that question John, think really hard." Mrs Hudson tutted.

"Now, now let's all be friends." She remarked and Charlie smiled broadly. Sherlock opened the fridge and pulled out a mince pie, biting into it.

"Don't be absurd." He spoke. Mrs Hudson muttered about talking with his mouth full and he pointedly swallowed it.

"I'm not being absurd! She's in shock! And all over some bloody stupid camera phone…where is it anyway?" Charlie looked over at her aunt as Sherlock straightened.

"Safest place I know."

Mrs Hudson smiled and reached into her shirt, withdrawing the phone.

"You left it in the pocket of your second best dressing gown you clot…I wouldn't have found it if Charlie didn't tell me about it. I managed to sneak it out when they thought I was having a cry." She said dramatically and smiled. Sherlock pocketed it.

"Thank you. Shame on you John Watson." He announced and Charlie giggled hugging her aunt tightly.

"Shame on me?" John demanded, bristling.

"Mrs Hudson? Leave Baker Street? England would_ fall_." He put his hand on her shoulder and drew her close.

"You two should have been actors, theatre missed a pair of great drama queens the day you didn't try for auditions." Charlie retorted snidely as the pair chuckled.

Later they were all huddled around in the living room.

"Whatever is on that phone, it's more than just photographs." John spoke as Charlie turned another page of her book.

"Yes, it is."

He plucked the strings of his violin, feeling oddly content.

"So she's alive then…how are we feeling about that?"

Charlie simply shrugged.

"I'll deal with that tomorrow." She said as Sherlock just picked up his bow and began to play auld lang syne.

"it's midnight." She noticed and John smiled.

"Happy New Year," He announced before wishing them goodnight. She hugged him and said farewell. As she turned to leave Sherlock stopped her. She smiled up at him and leaned in close. He went rigid with shock as her lips gently brushed his before he responded just as lightly, feeling strangely as though he'd done this before. She pulled away slowly and smiled up at him.

"Happy New Year Shirley, thank you for saving me."

"Happy New Year Charlie. You can always count on it."

**Hurray! Done.**

**Translations:**

_**Pog mo thoin- kiss my ass**_

_**A**__**madá- idiot. **_


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Charlie POV:

Charlie avoided Sherlock the next morning. He seemed to be doing the same so neither was all that offended but John's critical eye fell on his two friends and despite the pounding hangover he'd managed to sustain cottoned onto their distress quicker than she would have liked. The trio sat down in their respective places for breakfast and just as she was about to bite into the toast John had lovingly prepared Sherlock exploded from his chair and ran to the door. After recovering from her heart palpitations she shook her head, threw the toast back and stood to follow. A short cab ride later sent them into the bowels of St Barts. He headed straight for the lab and Charlie muttered something about collecting some files. When she returned, a stack of reports clutched beneath her arm, she found Sherlock x-raying what appeared to be Irene's phone with a disgruntled looking Molly looking at the screen over his shoulder.

"Is that a phone?" She asked and Charlie sighed as she planted herself down into one of the uncomfortable seats to begin her filing.

"It's a camera phone." He explained and Molly looked aghast.

"And you're x-raying it?" She exclaimed.

"Yes I am."

She looked over at Charlie who took a moment to look up from her notes to shrug.

"If it keeps him from looking through mine, I don't rightly mind." She said before writing something down in a fanatical manner.

"Whose phone is it?"

"It's a long story. You remember that woman we spoke about… the un-classy one who likes to play around with people." Charlie said without looking up. Sherlock leapt up and pulled the phone from the machine.

"Yes she does like to play games…and she sent this to our address…" He muttered darkly. He typed in four digits and the phone made it's error noise.

"Well there goes one attempt…how many left?" Charlie asked.

"Two." Sherlock said, scowling darkly.

Hours later they arrived back at Baker Street. Her feet were killing her and her back felt every step as she tried to clamber up them. She sighed and sat down on the bottom-most one. Both men turned to look at her and she smiled.

"Baby body I'm afraid, world of pain." She remarked dryly before she was hoisted into a pair of arms and carried the rest of the way up the stairs. He chuckled at her startled face as he carried her bridal style through the door into the living room and deposited her onto the sofa. He then went off to sulk.

"Cheer up, Shirley we'll figure it out."

"Time is of the essence." He retorted, as he moved to collect his violin. "Okay then, stop whining at me and start thinking."

Suddenly she stopped smiling, remembering a small thing she'd seen as they entered. She got to her feet and staggered towards the window. Under Sherlock's careful scrutiny she checked the thing for…

"Aha! Broken." She announced and fingered the lock thoughtfully.

"Oh God we haven't had another sodding break in have we?" John asked, coming to stand beside her. She shook her head and took in a small smear on the window frame. Lipstick, too dark a shade for her so… She turned to look at Sherlock who was already up and pacing towards the door. She followed swiftly towards his bedroom as John walked up the stairs with bags of shopping.

"Oh hi you two, any luck at the lab?"

They both made rather vague noises about their time spent at St. Barts. Before opening Sherlock's bedroom door and halting in their tracks. John walked over and peered in over her shoulder. Charlie sighed and felt as if her day could get much worse now. John took the words right out of her mouth as he stared down at a sleeping Adler.

"What's _she _doing here?"

"You know what John, that's a very good question." She retorted dryly before turning on her heel and stalking back to the living room.

After the boys had awoken her they dragged Adler out into the sitting room and plunked her down into one of the numerous armchairs. She sat opposite them as John perched on his Union Jack chair and both Charlie and Sherlock sat on the sofa. Ankles curled beneath her Charlie leaned against the arm of the sofa and gazed at Adler curiously. After the break in John had told her the woman was alive but seeing her in the flesh was different as to seeing the now obviously fake corpse on a morgue slab. There was think silence as everyone stared at everyone before Sherlock finally got the interrogation started.

"So who's after you?" He asked.

"People who want to kill me." She answered and Charlie snorted.

"And you thought to hide away here of all places?" She demanded, raising her eyebrows despite the twinge in played on the bruise by her temple. Adler scowled at her, before taking in her condition with a small frown.

"I suppose it must have made sense considering how well we all got along last time we met. Remember? You drugged Sherlock with a hair pin." She carried on lightly. Adler shrugged and smiled. Sherlock was looking mildly annoyed at the mention of that particular incident but said nothing.

"So who wants to kill you? Apart from me of course." Charlie continued calmly.

"Killers."

"It would help if you were a tiny bit more specific." John broke in and Adler sized him up but continued to remain silent.

"So you faked your own death in order to get ahead of them?" Sherlock broke in.

"It worked for a while."

"Except that you let John know that you're alive and therefore myself and Charlotte." Charlie smiled. If anyone else had dared call her by her full name they'd have long ago been searching for their teeth under a table somewhere. Sherlock's frequent use of the name both annoyed her and made her sigh, it was different when he said it. Adler shrugged.

"I knew you'd keep my secret. Where's my camera phone?" She demanded.

"Not here, we're not stupid." John replied, turning to face her more.

"Then what have you done with it? If they've guessed you've got it they'll be watching you… probably have judging by the wonderful colour features accentuating our dear Charlotte's face." She remarked casually. Charlie growled at her. Charlie 0- Adler-1.

"It's Charlie." She reinforced and Adler wisely decided not to push her luck.

"Then they'll know that we took a safety deposit box at the Strand a few months ago." Sherlock averted attention from her.

"I need it." Adler broke out.

"Well…we can't just go and get it can we?" Spoke John.

"Molly Hooper… she could collect it, take it to Bart's. We could get one of your homeless network to bring it here and leave it in the café then get one of the boys to bring it up the back."

"Very good plan John, full of intelligent precautions." Sherlock spoke as Charlie smiled at him. Leaning in she smirked at Adler's infuriated expression, she watched every movement she made. Charlie 1- Adler 1.

"Great so why don't I call- oh for God's sake." John sighed as Charlie withdrew the phone from Sherlock's inner pocket, holding it daintily in her hand as she peered across the room at Adler.

"So, what do you keep on here? Aside from pictures I mean."

Irene shrugged.

"Information, anything I might find useful."

"For blackmail?" John asked.

"For protection. I make my way in the world, I misbehave, I like to know people will be on my side exactly when I need them to be." She said and Charlie nodded.

"I can understand that." She said and relaxed back into the couch as Adler titled her head in her direction.

"So how do you acquire this information?" Sherlock asked.

"I told you, I misbehave." The innuendo was getting too much for Charlie who felt the baby kick, as though just as irritated with this woman as its Mumma was.

"You gain information that warrants being followed by CIA agents via pillow talk? Nice. But you've got something on there that's more dangerous than protection…do you know what it is?"

"Yes….but I don't understand it."

Sherlock nodded.

"I assumed. Show me." Irene held out her hand and Sherlock spoke again.

"Pass code?"

She continued to hold out her hand and after a brief nod from Sherlock Charlie handed the phone over. She typed in a code and the phone made the same error noise that had irritated Sherlock for so long.

"It's not working…"

"No, because it's a duplicate that I had made into which you've just entered the numbers 1058. I assumed you'd choose something more specific than that but thanks anyway… Charlotte?"

Charlie scowled and withdrew the real phone from her own pocket, handing it over to Sherlock who entered the digits into the keyboard before pressing enter. To everyone but Adler's surprise the same irritating error alert echoed in the otherwise empty flat.

"I told you that camera phone was my life. I know when it's in my hand."

Sherlock frowned but his gaze was appreciative when he looked over at her.

"You're rather good." He admitted and she smiled.

"You're not so bad." Irene responded flirtatiously. Charlie suddenly felt uncomfortable and looked over at John who was watching the exchange worriedly. He caught her eye and smiled thinly.

"There was a man. An MOD official and I knew what he liked. One of the things he liked was showing off." She was typing into her phone,

"He told me this email was going to save the world. He didn't know it but I photographed it. He was a bit tied up at the time." Oh Charlie could just imagine. Honestly, now she was glad she'd never been particularly fond of overt sexuality. Sherlock took the phone and walked to the window.

"It's a bit small on that screen, can you read it?"

"Yes."

"Code obviously. I had one of the best cryptographers in the country take a look at it though he was mostly upside down as I recall…couldn't figure it out."

Disgruntled she plonked herself down into Sherlock's arm chair and stared as Sherlock and Adler leant in close as he frowned at the small screen before him Adler had him hook, line and sinker but Charlie knew he'd never listen now. John sighed and they looked at each other.

"What can you do Mr Holmes? Go on, impress a girl." Adler cooed and in the time it took for her to lean in a kiss his cheek Sherlock had, amazingly, cracked the bloody list of numbers. The moment her lips touched his cheek Charlie stood up, casually so as not to make a scene, and walked over to looked down at the row of numbers. She fought the wild urge to throw the smirking Adler back out of the window she'd entered through, she'd done it with a 120kg man, a 70kg woman wasn't going to be much trouble. To her gratification Sherlock didn't seem as effected by the kiss as most men would be and spoke rapidly.

"There's a margin of error but I'm pretty sure there's a 747 leaving Heathrow tomorrow at 6:30 in the evening for Baltimore. Apparently it's going to save the world, I'm not sure how that could be true, but give me a moment I've only been on the case for eight seconds." He muttered and Charlie smacked him lightly on the top of his head. He looked up at her and smiled, causing her to return it despite her anger with him. It was quite obvious their kiss had meant nothing but he didn't have to be so cruel did he. Straightening she peered down at the phone, her brow crinkled.

"Seat allocations?" She asked and he nodded.

"Correct, it's good to know you're paying attention to things not just going off that gut feeling of yours. They're seat allocations on a passenger jet. There's no letter I because it can be mistaken for a one, no letters past K-"

"Width of the plane is the limit." She nodded, her eyes scanning the screen intently. She knew Adler was playing them both but she wouldn't let Sherlock bank all the fall if things went bad. She didn't trust the woman as far as she could spit and being a lady she never did.

"Yes, the numbers always appear randomly and not in sequence but the letters have little runs of sequence all over the place – families and couples sitting together – only a jumbo is wide enough to need a letter K or rows past 55 which is why there's always an upstairs. There's a row 13 which eliminates the more superstitious airlines. Then there's the style of the flight number, 007, that eliminates a few more. And assuming the British point of origin, which would be logical, considering the original source of the information and assuming from the increased pressure on you lately that the crisis is imminent," He stood and faced Irene as he talked. Charlie moved backwards and crossed her arms over her steadily growing torso and looked over at John who had his, 'brilliant!" expression on his face. Needing a friend she moved to stand beside him as Sherlock went for the jugular.

"The only flight that matches all the criteria Charlotte and I have just recounted and departs within the week is the 6:30 tomorrow evening from Heathrow airport." He finished.

"Please don't feel obliged to tell me that was remarkable or amazing, John has expressed that in every possible variant available to the English language." He said and John quickly closed her gaping mouth as Charlie hugged him. He smiled down at her before scowling at his best friend. There was a moment of complete silence and Charlie sure that if she had dropped an ant on the ground everyone would have heard it scream. Then Adler opened her big, red mouth and Charlie was grateful John had his arms around her.

"I would have you right here on this desk until you begged for mercy twice." She announced proudly and Charlie felt her mouth fall open slightly. Looking at John, whose expression mirrored hers to a greater extreme, she felt her chest squeeze slightly. She frowned and rolled her eyes, tapping John's jaw to get him to remember himself. Irene looked at her, smiling smugly. Charlie 1- Adler-2.

Sherlock broke the silence.

"John can you check those flight schedules and see if I'm right?" He asked and John untangled himself from Charlie, patted her shoulder gently and moved off towards his computer.

"Um…I'm on it, yeah." He tapped away on his keyboard,

"Uh, yeah, you're right. Flight double-oh-seven."

Suddenly, Sherlock and Charlie's eyes lit up like mini Christmas trees. They stared at each together and Charlie opened her mouth to speak but Sherlock cut in quickly.

"What did you say?"

"You're right."

"No, no after that, what did you say after that?"

John frowned.

"Double-oh-seven. Flight double-oh-seven."

Sherlock took off, walking around the room muttering the three digits to himself. Nobody noticed Irene typing on her phone behind her back, except Charlie who decided to pin it to her later. Charlie- 2 Adler- 2. Deciding to end Sherlock's little rant she caught him by the arm as he passed by. He stopped and looked down at her.

"Sherlock?"

"What?" He turned and scowled.

"Double-oh-seven. Number for James Bond…" She said as though it were obvious. Obviously the kid never watched a single Bond film, that was going to be rectified as soon as possible.

"Very nice but I'm not in the mood for trivia."

"Bond. Sherlock." She bit out,

"Remember? When Mycroft came to visit. _Bond_**.**" She said as the light finally clicked inside his head. His eyes widened as he remembered his brother's words…Bond air is go…. After a few moments Charlie stood and stretched.

"Miss Adler… you room's through here." She said and beckoned. The woman smiled and followed docilely enough. Pausing at her own room she opened the door and let it swing open.

"Bathroom's second on your right." She muttered, pointing down the hall and turned to leave. A soft hand caught her before she could disappear.

"Where's your room?" Adler asked with a small smirk, still up for games. Charlie sighed and looked at the woman tiredly.

"You're looking at it." She said quietly and nodded.

"Goodnight Miss Adler." She said dryly before wandering off towards the living room, a stunned Adler in her wake. Charlie- 3 Adler- 2.

Mycroft POV:

On the other side of London, Mycroft Holmes received a text.

_Jumbo Jet. Dear me Mr Holmes, dear me._

He leaned onto one hand, sitting there for what seemed like hours before covering his face with both hands. What had gone wrong?

Sherlock POV:

It was late, around 11:30pm and John had run out to the shops at Charlie's demand. He rolled his eyes remembering her rather absurd orders; pregnancy had turned her from a sensible psychologist to a ravaging entity devoted to the whims of her stomach. Right now she was grumbling after fish fingers topped with whipped cream and tomato sauce. The combination made even his rather steel line stomach churn. John had gone off after a bat of her eyelids and she'd retired to her room for a small nap at about 10:00 with work starting at 1. She had the graveyard shift again but he knew she didn't mind. He sat by the fireplace with his hand resting his hand on the delicate curve of his violin. He was watching the clock and realised she'd be up soon. The shower had finally turned off and he knew that it wasn't her but didn't turn when Adler entered the room. Added to Mycroft's words in his head, trying to fit them to the jumbo jet identified earlier that day, the conundrum that was Irene Adler had plagued him all day.

_Check with the Coventry lot…_

"Coventry." He muttered out loud.

"I've never been." Adler said quietly, he ignored her and began to tune the instrument on his lap.

"Is it nice?" When he continued to not respond she continued.

"What's Coventry got to do with anything?"

He took a deep breath. Why did she always ask so many questions? Charlie was better for company, she knew when to talk and when just let him think.

"It's a story. Probably not true. In the second world war the Allies knew that Coventry was going to get bombed because they'd broken the German code but they didn't want the Germans to know they'd broken the code so they let it happen anyway." He replied as she approached, he looked up briefly to see mild amazement in her gaze.

"Have you ever had anyone?" She asked after a moment. His thoughts froze and he looked up from his tuning to fix her with a rather piercing stare. She gaze back, her warm brown eyes twinkling wickedly.

"I'm sorry?" He asked, mildly surprised at her brazen behaviour.

"And when I say had I'm being indelicate." She smiled, a joyous one that seemed to light from within her very skin. He watched, wishing her eyes were green. Hold that thought Shirley! He ordered and looked at her warily as she sat down before him and took his hand in his. Slowly he flipped it, caressing the soft skin of her wrist. Her pulse fluttered and he looked into her eyes.

" Perhaps you really are a virgin?" She said softly, leaning closer.

"I would be gentle." She whispered and he suppressed the urge to shudder. These sensations were strange but not as unfamiliar as he would have suspected. The soft caresses, the whispers… had he done this before? He tried to remember. A foggy image entered his brain, a soft moan and… red. He shook his head slightly to clear his muddled thoughts.

"But you haven't answered my question." Irene pressed and from the door they both her a small gasp. Sherlock took in her petite body, now resembling a stick insect that had eaten a lady beetle, and wrapped within the confines of a black leather jacket. A full length skirt of glowing green skimmed the floor as she took in the situation. For a moment he thought he saw a flash of pain then she smiled. It wasn't a genuine one, but you'd have to know her well to see that which unfortunately, he did. Irene stood slowly, her hands brushing his leg softly before she straightened. What he wouldn't give for a cigarette right now.

"Are you alright?" She asked him looked at Irene blandly, taking in her wet hair,

"What have you done to him now?"

Irene smiled blissfully. She stretched languidly and walked over to where Charlie stood.

"I asked him a question; made rather interesting observation…I think I might have shocked him a little." She said quietly, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. Charlie looked over at him and smirked.

"Please, it takes a little more than a pointed question to shock him… tea?" She called as she walked into the kitchen. Sherlock stood and walked in behind her as Irene shook her head, sitting down in Charlie's usual spot on the sofa. He took her in and opened his mouth to say something. She held up a hand and smiled.

"I know black, two sugars." She said and turned away. He placed a hand on her shoulder and gently tugged her back.

"Charlotte…" He began but they were cut off yet again.

"Sherlock! Charlie!" Her aunt called from downstairs and she sighed as Mrs Hudson entered the flat and smiled tensely at Irene before speaking.

"Sherlock this man was at the door. Is the bell still not working?" She asked and they both shook their heads.

"No Aunty Em, I'm rewiring it remember?" Charlie asked as she walked in from the kitchen. Her aunt nodded. A well groomed man in a suit was stood in the doorway. Sherlock didn't look amused.

"Have you come to take me away again?" He demanded sharply and the man scowled.

"Yes Mr Holmes and Miss Myers is to accompany us as well." He said.

Mrs Hudson looked alarmed.

"Take her where? What's she done?" She demanded and Charlie sighed and placed her hand on her aunt's arm. Sherlock looked away.

"We decline." He muttered. The man, who he recognised to be Charles, walked over and withdrew an envelope from his suit.

"I don't think you do."

Sherlock opened the envelope after snatching it out of Charles' hands. Inside was a plane ticket.

"Charlotte, we have a plane to catch. Please call John."

They were herded into a familiar black car, one that Charlie seemed quite well acquainted with. He held the door open and guided her inside the depths of the back seat before stepping inside and closing the door behind him. They travelled in silence, she refusing to open her mouth and he not able to say a single thing worth opening his for.

As they approached the airport she frowned, looking over at him she finally spoke.

"So," she prompted, "What's going on?"

"There's going to be a bomb on a passenger jet, the British and American governments know about it but rather than stop it they're going to let it happen. The plane will blow up. It's Coventry all over again."

She blinked slowly. Her large green orbs taking him in begging him to say he was joking.

"Still failing to see what this has to do with us." She said and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Bond air, _a __mhuirnín_. Flight double-oh-seven." He said and she started.

"Your accent's getting better." She said stiffly and he smiled.

"Thank you, it's hard to practice on my own." He muttered and she laughed.

"It must be serious though," She said and he cocked a brow.

"You're speaking Gaelic and they've given you a ticket to a plane that's going to blow up? Coincidence, I think not." She said and he smirked.

"You know what, you're smarter than I really give you credit for." He teased and she huffed, flicking her shortened hair dramatically as she pouted.

"Is this for throwing that American out of the window?" She asked after a moment's silence, staring out into the gloom. Sherlock followed her gaze to see John standing outside in the chilly air beside the rather beat up looking American from their apartment. His lips twitched upwards as he got out of the car and handed Charlie out a regally as he could. John saw them a rushed towards them.

"What's going on?" He demanded and Charlie sighed.

"We'll find out." She said and they walked towards the unfortunate American.

"Well, you look very…colourful." Sherlock said as they approached. "How ya feelin'?" He asked, deciding to play a little with his accents.

"Like putting a bullet in your brain, sir." The man said and Charlie sniggered.

"Get in line mate." She said and smiled at his furious look.

"They'd pin a medal on me if I did…sir." He added. Sherlock scoffed and moved on effectively ending that tedious conversation. They entered the plane. It was dark inside, and eerily silent. The passengers were still and limp in their seats. Sherlock flicked on a reading light as John checked the pulse of a man beside him.

"Sherlock, he's dead…" He whispered as he looked around.

"The Coventry conundrum." Mycroft's voice made at least two of the three jump.

"What do you think of my solution?" He asked casually. Charlie placed a hand over her heart and scowled at his brother.

"Creepy." She said and he inclined his head, acknowledging the input. They looked around as Mycroft continued.

"The flight of the dead." He said proudly.

"Plane blows up mid-air, success for the terrorists…hundreds of casualties…" Sherlock began.

"But nobody dies." Charlie pondered wondrously.

"Neat, don't you think?" Mycroft asked and she nodded looking around more closely. Mycroft could now see the bruises that covered her temple and cheek bone, the slightly swollen lip in the half light. Sherlock was at least glad to see his jaw tighten. His brother would probably be having a serious conversation with the head of the CIA, Sherlock could feel the man's pain already.

"You two have been stumbling around the fringes of this one for ages. Or were you too bored to notice the pattern?" This last sentence was aimed at his Sherlock who chose to play.

"Hardly, sending them in two's or three… interesting." HE remarked quietly.

"Is this why they've been signing bodies out of the morgue almost before they get there?" Charlie asked.

"God I have you to thank for extra paper work, Molly and Thalia have been on my ass about those because there's been a bloody influx of cadavers… thanks a bunch Mycroft." She bit out sourly. He smiled.

"I do apologise for the rush. We ran a similar project with the Germans a while back, though I believe one of our passengers didn't make the flight."

"The man in the car." Mycroft continued after a moment's pause.

"But that's the deceased for you. Late; in every sense of the word."

"How's the plane going to fly? Of course, unmanned aircraft, hardly new." Sherlock muttered to himself. Mycroft frowned.

"It doesn't fly, it will never fly. This entire project is cancelled. The terrorist cells have been informed that we know about the bomb. We can't fool them now. We've lost everything. One fragment of one email and months, years of planning, finished." He shrugged slightly. He looked over at Charlie who looked like she wanted to hug his brother but seemed to find the surrounding a little morbid for such sentiments.

"Your MOD man." She spoke quietly and he saw something jump between the two.

"That's all it takes. One lonely, naïve man, desperate to show off. And a woman clever enough to make him feel special." Mycroft said softly and Charlie bit her lip. Sherlock raised his eyebrows.

"You should screen your defence people more carefully." He remarked callously but Mycroft whirled on him like an angry housewife.

"I'm not talking about the MOD man Sherlock, I'm talking about you!" He shouted and cold realisation washed over him. Charlie swallowed looking between them and finally spoke.

"Adler." She muttered and both men could hear a death wish in that single word. Mycroft nodded.

"You suspected her from the start, Charlie and quite rightly too. It was all too well done. A damsel in distress, it was textbook." He muttered and gave Sherlock a despairing look.

"Don't be absurd!" Sherlock broke in, trying to cover his tail a little. Charlie sniggered, her temper finally breaking through.

"Absurd?" She said quietly and the whole plane seemed to listen.

"How quickly did you decipher that email for her Sherlock? Was it the full minute? Or were you really eager to impress?" She asked casually and he thought back to that night, of her and John sharing a glance. They'd both known there was nothing they could do. He wanted to hit something… hard. Mostly himself.

"I think it was less than five seconds." Irene's voice floated through the silence of the plane. All four whirled to face her as she stepped out from the shadows. Sherlock looked over to see Charlie's eyes had narrowed to slits of blazing green. Irene's hair was curled up once more, her makeup was perfect and her scarlet lips twisted in a sneer.

"Mr Holmes, I think we need to talk." She said and he nodded.

"So do I." He said coldly. She chuckled.

"Not you, junior, you're done now. Hello Charlotte darling, games up isn't it… we both played it well." She sidled past them, her hand lingering on Charlie's arm as she moved onwards.

"There's more, loads more. On this phone I've got secrets and pictures and scandals that could topple your whole world. You have no idea how much havoc I can cause and exactly one way to stop me. Unless you want to tell your masters that your biggest security leak is your own little brother." She said to Mycroft who looked as though someone had swung straight for his head and collided below the belt. Charlie moved to stand by his brother and she looked up into his face. She leaned forwards and whispered in his ear. He nodded. Looking over at Irene he nodded and placed Charlie's hand into the crook of his elbow as he walked forwards.

"Yes, I think we all need to hear Miss Adler's thoughts." He said and the five left the flight of the dead, only one of them smiling.

**Translation:**

_**A **__**mhuirnín- my dear.**_


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

**I am totally trying to finish this story before school starts up because I know that as soon as it does freaking life will get in the way and you'll be left disappointed for the next two and a half months. Hope you are all enjoying this story BTW it's been one of my favourites so far and I look forward to reviews… they feed my soul. **

Charlie POV:

The room could have been made of ice for all the warm fuzzies that flew between the five people in it. Mycroft sat alone at his desk, Irene stood of to the right as Sherlock, John and herself planted themselves wherever they could. She'd never been to Mycroft's house but even if she hadn't been totally preoccupied with the situation at hand she still would have immediately known who owned it. Charlie glared for all she was worth at the woman across from her who stood there calmly making demands and brandishing her phone filled with secrets.

"We have people who can get into this." Mycroft bluffed and she sighed quietly.

"I tested that theory for you. I let Sherlock Holmes try it. Sherlock dear, tell him what you found when you x-rayed my camera phone." She asked sweetly and Charlie almost walked over and hit her.

"There are four additional units wired inside the casing. I suspect containing acid or a small amount of explosive. Any attempt to open the casing will burn the hard drive." Sherlock said stiffly and she smiled. Mycroft sighed and massaged his temples, Charlie felt for him… everyone's day was going to shit.

"Explosive." Adler cooed,

"It's more me."

"always one for drama." Charlie muttered and scratched her nail into the desk beside her.

"Some data is always recoverable." Mycroft tried, frowning at her.

"Take that risk." Irene smiled sublimely.

"There is a pass code to open this; I deeply regret to say we have people who can extract it from you." He said and Alder looked at Charlie encouragingly.

"There will be two pass codes, one to open the phone, one to burn the drive." She said after a pause, all eye flicked to her as Sherlock nodded.

"Even under duress you can't know which one she's given you and there would be no point in a second attempt." She continued, looking across at Adler who seemed as happy as a cat chewing on the prized canary. She took the phone and turned it over in her hand, staring into the screen.

"I AM _ _ _ _ LOCKED? You never said there was a clue Shirley." She said and Sherlock looked at her. She passed him the phone and her eye flicked between the phone, Adler and him. She couldn't do this for him… it was his mess. He gazed at her for a long time before staring at the phone in contemplation. Irene smiled.

"They're good aren't they? I should have them both on a leash. In fact I might." She said and Charlie cocked a brow at her dismissively. The other woman scowled and all the men in the room cheered silently.

"We destroy this, then." Mycroft broke in.

"No one has the information."

"Fine. Good idea. Unless there are lives of British citizens depending on the information you're about to burn." She said calmly and Charlie realised hatred wasn't a strong enough word to describe how she felt about Irene Adler. She wasn't the most patriotic of citizens but she did care about human lives.

"Are there?" She asked quietly, holding Irene's gaze steadily. Her stare must have been heated because the woman flinched and looked away first.

"Telling you would be playing fair. I'm not playing anymore." She reached into her handbag, deciding to change the subject.

"A list of my requests; and some ideas about my protection once they're granted." She said as Mycroft took the envelope.

"I'd say it wouldn't blow much of a hole in the wealth of a nation, but then I'd be lying." She retorted tartly and Charlie flicked glance onto the paper. Her eyebrows skyrocketed. Mycroft's eyebrows also shot up as he read the curled handwriting.

"I imagine you'd like to sleep on it." Adler asked softly.

"Thank you, yes."

"Too bad. Off you pop and talk to people." She ordered and Charlie stood. Her fist were balled and everyone in that room thought she was going to leap at Adler. She grabbed the phone and was tempted to type the code but knew she couldn't, instead she bit her nail and glared at it.

Mycroft sighed when the danger passed.

"You've been very thorough. I wish our lot were half as good as you."

Irene shook her head.

"I can't take all the credit, I had a bit of help." She turned to Charlie and Sherlock,

"Jim Moriarty sends his love."

Mycroft looked up. Sherlock looked at her; she felt his eyes on her and closed her eyes. Counting slowly back from ten she managed not scream.

"Yes, he's been in touch. Seems desperate for my attention, which I'm sure can be arranged." Mycroft muttered. Adler smiled.

"I had all this stuff, never knew what to do with it. Thank God for the consultant criminal. Gave me lots of advice about how to play the Holmes boys and their little pets. Do you know what he calls you? The Ice Man."

She turned to Sherlock and sneered.

"And The Virgin." She said snarkily and Charlie stiffened.

"Do you know what he calls you Charlotte?" She asked and Charlie's eye snapped open.

"Do I look like I want to know what my asshole of a cousin calls me behind my back? You stupid bitch, Jim could call me the second cousin of a pox covered harlot and I wouldn't care." She said icily and Adler's eyes widened.

"Your cousins?" She stuttered and Charlie smirked triumphantly.

"Oh precious the one secret the almighty Irene Adler didn't know… how wonderful. Yes, Jim is my cousin… ironic isn't it?" She smirked at Irene's shock and turned away.

"The _rua sióg__._" Irene said and Charlie stumbled. Sherlock's hand immediately caught her around the top of her arm and she slowly turned to face The Woman.

"What did you say?" She asked tightly and Adler smirked, seizing the upper hand immediately.

"The _rua __sióg__, _that's what he calls you_._" She said and Charlie bowed her head for a few seconds which gave Irene all the time to continue.

"You know he didn't even ask for anything, I think he just likes to cause trouble. Now that's my kind of man." She said. She looked up into Sherlock's face and whispered quietly into his ear, John looked one but said nothing as Mycroft finally admitted defeat.

"And here you are, the dominatrix that brought a nation to its knees. Nicely played." He said as he stood.

"No." Sherlock spoke finally. His deep voice echoed through the room and Charlie smiled. There it was everything finally clinked into place. The missing gleam returned to his blue eyes as he carefully approached Adler.

"Sorry?" Irene looked confused. Sherlock smiled.

"I said no. You almost had me, but no." He walked over.

"You got carried away. Elaborate game, enjoying yourself too much…I see it all the time, Charlie often reminds me of it. A little irritating but good for some things." He continued.

"There's no such thing as too much." Adler protested and Charlie snorted.

"Yes there is." She nodded.

"I know you, Irene Adler. Unfortunately I know you all too well. It's all very well enjoying yourself, seeing everyone squirm, but when sentiment gets involved…well we all do silly things don't we?" She said sadly, looking down at her rather obtuse bump.

"Sentiment?" She watched as Charlie's eyes flickered briefly to Sherlock's and the detective smirked. Her own widened and she backpedalled rapidly. Sherlock stepped forwards and after a nod to Charlie moved to stand before her.

"Oh you don't actually think I was interested in you do you? Why? Because your Sherlock Holmes, the clever detective in the funny hat?"

Sherlock smiled thinly.

"Oh no, I don't think you were, I know you were. We're very similar you and I." He said calmly,

"We both enjoy the danger, the thrill of the chase, just a little bit too much. The signs were clear enough earlier in the living room." She laughed weakly.

"So what? I was just playing with you… how can you be sure I wasn't?" She demanded and Sherlock smiled cruelly.

"Your pulse. I took your pulse." He said simply and Charlie almost whacked herself upside the head for her earlier freak out. She grinned at John and Mycroft who was looked less pale as his brother spoke.

"Your pupils dilated, your breathing just a little bit too fast." He slipped grasped the phone out of Charlie's hands and smirked.

"When we first met each other you told me a disguise is always a self-portrait, how true of you. The combination to your safe, your measurements but this-" He flipped the phone before catching it again, "This is intimate. This phone is your life, you pour everything into it. This is your heart. And I know better than anybody that you should never let it rule your head." He said and his voice had lost all its warmth.

"I have always thought love a chemical defect of the brain, it leads you to mistakes. You could have written any four numbers in the world and walked out of here completely safe but you didn't, you listened to your heart and it's ruined you. Thank you Miss Adler for giving me the final proof." He said and typed four digits into the keypad. Irene was looking at him, straight into his burning blue eyes, suddenly wide with realisation that this was actually happening to her.

"Everything I said…it's not real. I was just playing the game." She whispered desperately.

"I know." Charlie spoke equally quietly, the woman looked at her as she took the phone from Sherlock. She looked up and he nodded. She smiled.

"And this is just losing." She said and held the phone aloft so that John and Mycroft could read the screen.

**I AM** SHER**LOCKED**. It read, clear as day. She pressed enter and the screen sprung to life, folders and icons all over it, Irene's lifeline revealed and defenceless.

"Here you go Mycroft, I hope it makes up for any inconvenience we have caused." Sherlock said and Mycroft smiled lightly as she gave the phone to him. He took it from her delicately.

"I'm certain it will." He said and walked out swiftly. John stood and moved closer.

"If you're feeling kind, lock her up, otherwise let her go. I doubt she'll survive long without her 'protection'." He called after his older brother who waved farewell over his shoulder. Irene stared as they made their way towards the door.

"Are you expecting me to beg?" She asked and Charlie felt the tremor of morality strike her. God darn her morals. Sherlock it seemed didn't feel the same.

"Yes." He answered. Irene now looked smaller, her overwhelming presence lost as it dawned on her exactly how much she had gambled away. Her face broke and she gasped.

"Please…I won't even last six months." She called to him but he simply walked over to John who stood by the door, silent and unmoved. Sherlock was the one who answered.

"I'm sorry about dinner." He said simply and walked out. Charlie turned her head.

"Don't wait up, I'll only be a few minutes." She said and John nodded, turning on his heel with barely a look in Adler's direction. Alone the two women faced each other; one the winner and the other the loser.

"How do you do it?" Adler asked as Charlie sat down next to her. Charlie pulled a face.

"Do what?" She asked.

"Live with him, feeling as you do?" She asked and Charlie chuckled. She looked over at the now broken woman and smiled thinly.

"I take each day at a time, and when a day's too much an hour. When that hour seems too much a minute and soon I realise that I've made it through months just holding out until he gets it." She said softly and took the brunette's hand gently in hers. She couldn't hate her anymore. The poor woman was harmless and just needed a soft word.

"Move on Irene… there's only pain here for you now." She said and the woman nodded.

"Tell me, you would know if he wasn't a virgin right?" She asked and Charlie bit her lip.

"Really?" She asked and the woman shrugged.

"Humour me." She said and Charlie sighed.

"Well now that would be an interesting conundrum indeed. How could I be pregnant if he was still a virgin?" She wondered aloud and chuckled at the woman's gasp. She stood and turned to Irene whose gaze was on her stomach.

"It's…" She stopped and looked up into her face.

"He doesn't know does he?" She asked and Charlie shook her ehad.

"Probably still thinks he's a virgin, we were both pretty plastered." She muttered making the woman laugh.

"I extend my hand to you… that trumps my situation by a slim margin." She said and Charlie frowned.

"You're now vulnerable to every person you've ever pissed off… how do I trump you again?"

"You're currently pregnant to a man that not only doesn't know his side of the tango, lives with you and can't seem to wrap his head around the interesting theory of love. Sweetie, you're fucked. I just have to hide." She said and stood as well. The two women smiled at each other. The fight was over.

"Take care Adler."

"Take care Charlotte." They parted in the hall, Adler's shoes ringing on the floor. She paused.

"What does it mean?" She didn't have to elaborate. Charlie sighed.

"My Daddy used to call me that, before he died. It's Gaelic." She said. Irene nodded, knowing she wouldn't get a straight answer from her. She waved and Charlie smiled. Charlie's coat swished in the cold breeze as she stepped outside. She climbed into the awaiting cab and Sherlock cocked a brow.

"What was that about?" He asked and she smiled.

"Oh nothing, let's go home." She said; a hand on her stomach. The cab took off and they were soon standing on the door of 221 Baker Street. Mrs Hudson after calming down rushed them upstairs for tea and coffee. The warm drinks were heaven for her frozen lips and Charlie was shocked when Sherlock covered her shoulders with his coat.

"You're cold, can't have that." He said and she flicked him lightly. John cackled by the fire and the three suddenly burst out laughing. They couldn't stop, even when her aunt tried desperately to find out the matter. Tears of mirth streaming down her face Charlie leant back against the sofa and closed her eyes. Minutes later she was asleep.

Some Months Later:

"John! I need more sweets!" Charlie shouted and heard both men groan as she entered the living room. She smirked and waddled towards them. Waddle was a good word too. At eight and a half months she was big, often insulted by Sherlock when he chose to compare her to an ant that had swallowed a grape. She surveyed the pair as they looked up at her.

"Why don't you ever get him to do it?" John asked sulkily as Sherlock leaned back smugly into his arm chair. Charlie shrugged.

"It's the uncle's duty to spoil." She said and John smiled.

"That's true." He said and groaned as he stood.

"Just go to the one downstairs, a cake or something." She said and he nodded. When he disappeared she turned to Sherlock and smirked. Sensing danger he almost ran to the kitchen to check on the bubbling experiment. She laughed and followed.

"Shirley?" She said slowly and he tried to ignore her. Bent over his microscope he chose to fill his time with science rather than her banter. She smirked. Coming up behind him she wrapped her arms awkwardly around his shoulders and rested her head against his shoulder blades.

"Sherrrrr-looock, why are youuuu ignoring meeeee?" She wailed playfully and he rubbed his face with his hands, ripping his gaze away from the wonderful world of microbes.

"How and when did you get so annoying?" He asked and she shrugged.

"Don't know, it just sprang up on me one day, 'hay I've found my calling in life… annoying Sherlock Holmes', I simple had to follow my destiny." She said and he chuckled. Turning to face her he rested his hands on her shoulders. She smiled and looped out from under his hands to pull the fridge door open.

"Another head? My, my how we fly through them." She said wonderingly. He frowned at her and she sighed.

"Fine I'm going." She said and waddled away through the door and, after carefully navigating the stairs, walked inside the take away place Speedys. She saw Mycroft and John sitting down and curiously made her way towards them.

"Why Mycroft I didn't know you frequented cafés." She said brightly as she approached. Both men spun and Mycroft's eyes widened at the sight of her enormous stomach. She sniggered.

"Charlie, how wonderful to see you." He said and stood, kissing her gently upon the cheek. She smiled and sat down next to John.

"You've grown." Mycroft observed and she smiled.

"Can't help it can I? I'm due any day now." She said and he smiled.

"Congratulations, I'll send a card." He said and she nodded.

"Please do. So this is why you're not back with my cake." She accused John who shrugged helplessly. His eyes flicked to the table and she saw a folder. She cocked a brow.

"It's the file on Irene Adler." John said and she glanced at him warily. Looking at Mycroft she saw him nod as she pulled it towards her.

"Closed forever. I am about to go and inform my brother or, if you prefer, that she somehow got herself into a witness protection scheme in America. New name, new identity, she will survive and thrive. But he will never see her again." He said and Charlie nodded.

"I suppose it's for the best. He can't bear to think about it… or her, we take to calling her 'The Woman' when we're up late I I need to vent." She said and tossed the file back onto the table.

"Is that disregard? Or a salute?" Mycroft asked and Charlie smirked.

"You make an educated guess Mycroft, I don't care. Sherlock…" She paused and he nodded understandingly. John looked between the pair.

"Bu Sherlock doesn't feel that way about anything." He protested and Mycroft shook his head.

"My brother has the mind of a philosopher or a scientist yet he elects to be a detective. You my dear, are gifted beyond your ken yet work the psychologist graveyard shift at a hospital. What might we deduce about hearts?" He said and John looked away.

"I don't know." He said and Charlie smiled. .

"Neither do I. I remember a time when my little brother's sole ambition was to be a pirate." Charlie looked up at him and he smiled at her over the table.

"He'll be okay with his, witness protection, never seeing her again, he'll be fine."

"I agree. That's why I decided to tell him that."

"As opposed to what?" Charlie asked.

"She's dead." Mycroft responded. John gasped but Charlie didn't respond.

"She was captured by a terrorist cell in Karachi a month ago and beheaded."

John paused before speaking.

"It was definitely her? She's done this before." He said and Charlie nodded. Mycroft nodded.

"I was thorough this time. It would take Sherlock Holmes to fool me, and I don't think he was on hand, do you?" John was silent and he continued. "So…" He slid the file across the table. John stared at it whilst Charlie simply stood up.

"What shall we tell him?"

"Whatever you want." She said and turned away.

"Good day Mr Holmes." She said and he chuckled.

"Good day Charlie. Good luck."

When they got upstairs Sherlock was looking into his microscope. Charlie moved instantly to the couch and picked up her book. Obviously she was letting John make the decisions on this. She looked peaceful and so did he. She had her secrets and he still had his. Sherlock looked up and took them in. Then he returned to work. She moved to stand behind him, looked through microscope when he stepped away briefly to pick up a scalpel, before picking up the empty cup beside his elbow. She returned it to the sink and moved to sit opposite the detective. They moved like clockwork and even she was a little surprised. Sitting down she pulled her book out and began to read. It was nice not to argue with him all the time.

"Clearly you've got news." Sherlock broke the silence and Charlie looked up at John, 'Your move' her gaze said.

"If it's about the Leeds triple murder, it was the gardener. Nobody noticed the earring." Charlie nodded to confirm his words.

"Except us." She added. Sherlock nodded and half smiled into the microscope. .

"Hi, er no its um…It's about Irene Adler." John said and Charlie looked up from another Dean Koonz.

"Well?" Sherlock inquired as she stared. John swallowed.

"Did something happen? Did she come back?"

"No, no, she's…I just bumped into Mycroft downstairs, he had to take a call. She's uh…She's in America." He said and Charlie nodded minutely, to herself and saw Sherlock send her a look out of the corner of her eye. She smiled and picked up her book again. Balance restored to the universe.

"America?" Sherlock asked and John nodded.

"Mmm hmm." He nodded,

"Got herself on a Witness protection scheme apparently. I don't know how she swung it but…uh…well you know, she won't be seeing any of us again."

"Is that her file?"

"Yes I was just going to take it back to Mycroft. Do you want to…?" He offered and Sherlock shook his head.

"No." He answered.

"Did she ever text you again? After all that?" John spoke, turning back to Sherlock from where he'd reached the door. Sherlock pulled away briefly to think.

"Once, a few months ago." He said and Charlie sighed, knowing exactly what he was talking about.

"What did she say?" John asked.

"Goodbye Mr Holmes."

That said Sherlock continued with his experiment…whatever it was, and John went back downstairs with the file. Charlie looked up when their friend left and looked into Sherlock's eyes. He smiled tightly.

"We did good Shirley." She said softly,

"She didn't have anyone else." He nodded. His phone went off, a bright ping that she'd replaced months ago. She smiled and looked back to her page. And that was that.

Two months earlier:

Irene looked around herself and sighed. All around black clothed men sneered at her and shouted into the desert. Perhaps it had always been fated to come to this. She smiled derisively and picked up the phone before her. She kissed the screen and sent the message. A soft sigh came from nearby and her eyes widened. Looking back she swathe man holding her death blade swing it back, his eyes startlingly blue behind the black cloth.

"When I say." He whispered.

"Run, she's waiting with a truck due West of here." He said and she nodded minutely. He swung the blade and caught the man standing behind her in the stomach. Wasting no time she upped and bolted. Chaos reigned yet somehow they made it and pelted towards the desert. Sand flew everywhere as lights appeared before them in the dark. A door was flung open and she clambered inside, Sherlock on her tail. At the wheel a very pregnant Charlie sat and grinned.

"Welcome aboard. Close the bloody door." She yelled at Sherlock who complied instantly. Then they were off, tearing across Karachi sands as fast as the jeep would go.

Charlie POV:

A few days later Charlie found herself walking into the Scotland Yard and looked around for Lestrade. Soon she caught his eye and he excused himself. Walking over she smiled and handed him the files under her arm. He looked at them and then at her.

"But she's…"

"That's what you know." She retorted before he could finish. He frowned and flicked through them

"All right, you three win… again." He said. She smiled and followed him out back. The small jar of change the office put together made its way into her hands and she smiled. She counted and sniggered. There was over $200 in there and she rolled her eyes at the stupidity of Anderson and Donovan.

"Haven't you all learnt by now?" She asked and Lestrade shrugged.

"You'd have hoped so but…" She nodded and emptied the 'Bet Jar' into her wallet.

"When are you due?" He asked and she smiled. Looking down she rubbed the enormous bump and laughed.

"Not soon enough, I can't wait for this thing to get out. I can sleep on my back for starters…" Her eyes clouded over as she fantasied. Lestrade chuckled.

"We'll send a card." He said and she smiled.

"You're the second person to say that to me this week." She muttered and he laughed. Hand on the small of her back he accompanied her to the door of the offices. Anderson sneered as he passed and Charlie flipped him the bird casually, making Lestrade cover a smirk. Donovan looked up from her desk and Charlie waved half-heartedly, she returned it. Score! Pressure suddenly welled in the small of her back, directly beneath his hand and she stopped, clutching at Lestrade's jacket until it passed. There was a rush of water between her legs and she blushed profusely at the thought of wetting herself here of all places. Stupid pregnancy bladder. Lestrade was looking at her worriedly and she looked up at him shakily. A light clicked as her stomach cramped and she felt her legs give slightly.

"Lestrade?" She called and he nodded.

"Don't panic… but my water just broke."

"Donovan, get the damned phone!" Lestrade bellowed.

**Ohhhhhhh yeah, cliffy to the end. What should it be boy or girl? Review and I'll take as many votes for each as my guideline. I know it's short but bare with me, the next chapter's probably going to be huge.  
**

**Translations:**

_**rua **__**sióg- red fairy**_


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

**Just a brief shout out to **.Wonderful, Riza Tukudo, Gwilwillith, kie1993, JumperGuy, living-in-my-own-AU, TooLazyToLogIn, SanctuaryLover and Totopup.** Thanks guys for all your wonderful reviews. Some of you have been here from the start and I just want to say a really big thank you and that this chapter is dedicated to you all. Love to all and enjoy. ****  
**

Charlie POV:

"Lestrade stop fussing, Donovan would you please call the hospital and let them know I'm on my way? Thanks." Charlie said as the woman nodded and picked up her desk phone. Carefully Charlie made her way over to an itchy old chair and sat down, the fabric feeling quite rough against her legs. Lestrade was flustered and she yelled at Anderson who was hovering to fetch the poor man a drink. He scowled but did as she bid.

"Not what I call the greatest service in Britain but it will have to do." She muttered to herself. Donovan walked over and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Hospital is waiting; sir would you like me to take her?" She asked and Lestrade nodded, grabbing his coat.

"Hurry up then Sally." He ordered and she nodded. Charlie smiled and stood slowly. A racking pain suddenly caught her in her stomach and she gasped quietly, closing her eyes briefly until the symptoms passed. When she opened her eyes Lestrade was looking at her in a panic, she smiled comfortingly knowing the man was a wince away from a nervous breakdown.

"Plenty more where that came from, contractions have started." She announced and began to walk towards the door. The whole office was in uproar and she waved cheerfully as she passed. Lestrade hurried her along as Anderson walked up to them. He helped guide her through the offices which at any other time she would have found repulsive yet right now she appreciated.

"For God's sake woman hurry up." Lestrade begged and she sniggered.

"Lestrade who's having this baby? I am, I know when I need to panic and it's certainly not now." She rebuked and he frowned.

"All the same." He muttered and she had an idea.

"Call Sherlock, he'll let John and my Aunt know what's going on." She said and Lestrade nodded as they approached Donovan's awaiting car. The woman smiled stiffly as Charlie clambered inside. They were off, Lestrade with his ear pinned to his phone. Donovan and Anderson sat in front, strangely silent, whilst Lestrade packed himself into the back with Charlie.

"Sherlock pick up the bloody phone…" He whispered and for once the man actually did.

"Sherlock! No it's not a case… I was getting to that if you'd let me." She smiled and rubbed her belly gently. Sherlock was probably looking for a good person to tease this morning; Lestrade fit the bill to a tee.

"It's Charlie. Oh, that got your attention didn't it?" Lestrade muttered.

"No she's fine but I should let you know… she's just gone into labour… we're on our way now, she wants you to tell John and her Aunt… I won't… I promise." He hung up and she looked over at him curiously. He shrugged and ordered Donovan to hurry up. Five minutes later they were walking through the doors of the medical centre. Sarah approached and Charlie hugged her.

"How far apart are the contractions?" She asked and Charlie struggled to think as another one ripped through her. For Lestrade's benefit she bit her lip and suppressed her moan of pain.

"About 15 minutes." She said finally. Sarah frowned.

"It's okay to show pain you know?" She said and Charlie chuckled.

"Not with him around." She said jerking a finger in Lestrade's direction as he paced the gallery behind them, a hand running through his hair in a sign of distress. Anderson and Donovan had found seats and were watching him bemusedly. Sarah chuckled.

"Oh I see. Come along let's get you all sorted." She said and dragged her into one of the wards. When she reappeared she was dressed in an awful hospital gown and had a singlet top on underneath, pulled down below her but. Feeling more secure she walked around the waiting room for a bit, pausing every now and again as the cramps slowly got closer together. Lestrade had finally calmed down and Donovan had a coffee in her hand. A flurry of movement at the door saw her Aunt burst through it and walk straight to the help desk.

"Where's my niece?" She demanded as John entered just behind her. The poor young burse behind the counter blanched and mumbled something incoherently. Charlie chuckled as Lestrade whistled for their attention. They walked over and Charlie looked over their shoulders for Sherlock. Her heart sank when she didn't see him. Her aunt embraced her and smoothed her hair back.

"Oh look at you, oh Charlie I so proud of you." She said and Charlie fought back sudden tears. She smiled at her aunt and hugged John tightly. He grasped her tightly and whispered in her ear.

"Sherlock's outside, he'll be in in just a moment… you shocked him pretty good Charlie." He muttered and she drew back. Smirking she looked down at her stomach.

"I'll tell you the truth, Baby shocked me too… frightened Lestrade out of his wits when my water broke." She said and grinned at the bumbling detective.

"This woman," He said frustratedly.

"Wouldn't see reason, kept insisting she was fine and waltzed around Scotland Yard like it was a typical Tuesday afternoon." John laughed, curling an arm around her shoulders.

"That sounds like our Charlie, one for understatements." He teased and Charlie whacked him lightly.

"Ah!" She whimpered and bent forwards as pain skyrocketed through her abdomen. Screwing her eyes shut she felt tears burn the backs of her eyeballs and tried to remember to breathe. Fuck breathing she wanted this thing out now! The whole company went into panic mode.

"Charlie!" Her aunt cried and John flinched. Lestrade groaned and sank down next to a flustered Anderson and Donovan.

"Hm, I'm… fine. Jesus that was a good one." She remarked dryly and signalled over to Sarah who approached cautiously. John stared and they looked at each other. They'd parted ways months ago but Charlie had always suspected they'd remain friends… shared near death experience and all that.

"Alright let's get you into the bed now… come one, walk it off." She ordered sternly and Charlie finally nodded. She allowed John and a very insistent Lestrade to escort her into the room and climbed onto the birthing chair. Hurriedly Sarah placed a sheet over her lower half and Lestrade blushed beet red. Charlie grinned.

"Oh come on you two, I'm giving birth over here." She reminded them and John chuckled. He leaned over and kissed her rather paternally on the forehead. Touched by the gesture she felt a tear leak out of the corner of her eye. He wiped it away.

"Hey, no crying… _rua __sióg_." He said kindly, his accent twisting a little at the unfamiliar words. She smiled and clutched his hand.

"I don't want to seem mean but… I really need Sherlock to be here." She said and looked away. When she looked back John wasn't laughing, he looked serious. He nodded brusquely. Lestrade muttered about being just outside if she needed him and left.

"I'll get him, even if I have to drag him in here." He said and she relaxed.

"Thanks John." She watched him leave and settled herself back into the bed. She gasped as a small cramp rana through her pelvis, clutching tightly at the iron rails of the bed she finally let the moan of agony out.

"God make this a short one." She muttered and sighed.

Sherlock POV:

Sherlock ran a hand through his hair. He stood outside the hospital, looking into the glass doors as people walked in and out. Charlie was in there now, probably wondering where the hell he was. He sighed and sat down on the brickwork outside, wishing desperately that he had a cigarette. From the moment he'd gotten the call from Lestrade he'd been thrown off kilter. His heart still hadn't returned to its typical pace and he worried constantly, his mind flicking through a hundred different scenarios of this ending badly. He'd almost ripped John and Mrs Hudson's arms out of their sockets as he'd pelted out of the flat, yelling the message briefly behind him and causing the pair to switch on. They'd been fine when they'd arrived; walking straight into the place without hesitation yet here he sat, waiting. Why? He couldn't wrap his head around it. A hand landed on his shoulder, disturbing his thoughts. He turned to see John looking down at him.

"Lestrade's with her, she's just been admitted into the birthing ward." HE said and sat down beside him. Sherlock nodded and gazed out over the concrete courtyard. There was a long silence.

"She asked for you Sherlock, you should have seen her face when she realised you weren't coming inside… kicked puppies couldn't look much worse." He muttered and Sherlock exhaled heavily.

"I was just about to come in." He lied and John smirked.

"No you weren't, you would have sat here until she came out and dragged you inside." He retorted and Sherlock rolled his eyes. There was another pause.

"Is she alright?" He asked finally and John looked at him.

"Better than expected, considering those contractions are apparently extremely painful and she only just started sweating." He said and Sherlock grinned.

"That's Charlie." They said in unison and laughed. After a while they stopped and Sherlock stood. John clambered to his feet beside him.

"Come on." He said and placed a hand on Sherlock's shoulder. Straightening Sherlock shrugged it off and walked towards the hospital, pausing briefly at the door.

I'm afraid. He marvelled to himself and shook his head. Afraid of losing her. He remembered his promise on New Year's Eve and slapped himself mentally.

"Grow up Holmes." He muttered and stepped inside. There was quite the crowd in the waiting room. Mrs Hudson stood beside, surprise of all surprises, Anderson and Donovan.

"Anderson, what are you doing here?" He demanded automatically and everyone grinned. John walked up behind him and pointed down the hall.

"She's the fourth door on your left, be warned… she's at six centimetres." He said and Sherlock looked at him warily.

"What happens at six centimetres?" He asked and John smirked.

"Nothing, but at ten it's baby time and at eight," he shook his head.

"She'll hate every man since Adam." Sherlock didn't like the sound of that. Waving at Mrs Hudson who smiled merrily he ignored Donovan and Anderson and walked down the corridor. He saw Lestrade outside a door and sighed with relief, letting the tension he hadn't realised he held go. He'd been worried she'd been alone, now he knew she wasn't.

"Sherlock, she's inside and the anaesthologist just went in… she kicked him out." He muttered and Sherlock smirked.

"I'll try my luck." He said and Lestrade clapped him on the back.

"Good man." He said and sighed with relief before walking away down the hall.

"Lestrade." He called out and the inspector stopped.

"Yes?"

"Thank you, for staying with her." He said and the man smiled.

"I promised didn't I?" He said and moved off waving over his shoulder. Sherlock turned and looked through the door. Charlie sat silent and still on the frame. She was wearing one of those god awful gowns and her hair was slightly sweaty, sticking to her forehead. She seemed lost in thought. Then suddenly her face melted into a grimace of pure agony. She clutched at the rails beside her and he heard the scream through the heavy door. Swallowing he pressed the door open and walked into the room. Her face changed almost immediately and she closed down. The scream was bitten off and she looked down, hiding the mask of pain. He moved over and stood beside her until passed. When she looked up at him, her face was very pale and her forehead was dotted with little beads of sweat.

"Well hey there," She said and he smirked.

"Sorry about that." She said as the doctor and Sarah walked in. She nodded at Sherlock in greeting and moved to stand beside Charlie.

"Now Miss Myers." The doctor said and Charlie straightened as much was possible on the birthing bed.

"You're at 7 and half centimetres, for the next two and half centimetres you are going to have to try and pay attention to what I'm saying… it's going to be hard but remember I'm only here to help." HE said and Sarah chuckled.

"He says this before every birth, makes him feel as though he's covered his ass." She said and Charlie chuckled. Sherlock found himself grinning until Sarah glared at him.

"Are you staying?" She asked and he looked down at Charlie. That was a big mistake because she was looking at him pleadingly, her atypically green eyes wider than usual as she begged him to silently to stay. He sighed and nodded to Sarah who surprisingly, smiled knowingly and touched his arm comfortingly.

"Just hold her hand and tell her she's doing great." She said and went to the medical table beside the bed, prepping for the procedure. Charlie suddenly arched on the bed and her face twisted in agony. Sherlock jumped as she let out a piercing wail and clutched desperately around her for support. On instinct he grabbed her hand and masked his features as her slim fingers buried into his flesh, the nails drawing small trickles of blood. He held it gently as she writhed through yet another contraction, Sarah whispering encouragingly in her ear. Her breath was laboured when the tremours passed and she sank back onto the bed for a moment then her eyes opened and she glared at him. HE almost stumbled back at the fury in her gaze.

"God you men have it so easy, you think it's hard… you have no fucking idea! Men, what bloody good are any of you?" She demanded her face snarling as she hurled abuse on his head.

"Good for nothing sots the lot of you, take what we women give for granted and what do we get, nothing but pain. Oh I hate you all!" She wailed. He took it calmly. She snarled, she sobbed, she called him every name he knew of and then some and for brief moments tried to apologise.

"I'm sorry Shirley." She whispered after another round of earth shattering contractions had hit. Still smarting from the insults of before, whereby not only his parentage was question but his sole purpose in life was brought under scrutiny, he eyed her warily. She shrugged and tried to smile he could see she meant it. He brushed the now sopping wet hair from her brow and squeezed her hand tightly. She reached up and brushed her fingers over his cheeks, her touch as soft as a butterfly. HE smiled and she returned it. Suddenly her eyes flew wide and he braced himself for round 31.

"Ten centimetres." The doctor announced.

"You're fully dilated."

"Thank God!" Charlie screamed and Sarah crouched by her spread thighs.

"When I say, I need you to push. You're doing great." Sarah encouraged and Sherlock nodded, not knowing what else to do. This experience was probably going to haunt him for the rest of his life. Charlie released a high keen of anguish as her body was ripped apart. She sobbed and strained as Sarah and the doctor ordered her around. Sherlock stood silently by her, his hand being slowly crushed within her death grip as she brought her baby into the world. She collapsed and Sarah looked worried. She looked at Sherlock.

"She'd running out of puff, this baby's go more to go and it won't happen if she doesn't push." She said simply and Sherlock nodded. Drawing her face towards him he looked into Charlie's red rimmed eyes. They were wide and glazed with pain and exhaustion.

"Come on _a stór, _you're almost there." He whispered and she blinked.

"It's hurts." She said weakly and he rolled his eyes.

"When has that ever stopped you before, come on I can't carry you through this." Sherlock said irritably and she inhaled raggedly. Score one for the acting skills.

"You're just being lazy now, come on Charlie." He ordered and she straightened. She gripped his hand tightly and her face scrunched as she gave a desperate wail.

"It's crowning." The doctor called and Sherlock squeezed her hand tightly.

"_Chugainn__álainn__." _He muttered and Charlie gave one final heave. She slumped and her eyes closed as her chest rose and fell at a hectic pace. There was silence.

"The baby?" Sherlock asked and looked over to where the doctors held the tiny infant. She was blue, her chest neither rose nor fell and she was extremely still. Panic set in, after all this she couldn't lose that baby. He remembered what he'd said on their first case, after fourteen years why would a woman still be upset at the death of a child… he wouldn't be able to handle it if the strong Charlie he knew spent the next fourteen years crying herself to sleep. He looked at Charlie who still had her eyes closed and was focused on returning her breath to normal. He whirled to the doctors to see Sarah desperately working to make the little girl breath. She looked at him.

"Stall." She mouthed and he nodded. He grasped Charlie's hand tightly as she finally opened her eyes. She looked at him.

"My baby?" She asked dreamily and he racked his brain for a suitable answer.

"She's perfect." He said and Charlie burst into tears. He swore softly.

"A girl, I had a little girl. Oh Sherlock…" She breathed and raised herself tiredly to peer towards the doctors behind their sheet. Her eyes narrowed. She'd noticed the quiet and her sensible brain kicked in.

"I want to hold my baby." She demanded and he bit his lip.

"Sherlock, where's my baby?" She yelled and he stroked her hand calmly.

"She's just getting…"

"Don't lie to me where is she?" She screamed and began to struggle. She pushed herself away from the mattress and her movements must have alerted the now flustered doctor and Sarah.

"Charlie, listen to me. _Gach __rud is deis bheith__ ceart._" Sherlock commanded but she was beyond listening. She began to swing her legs out of bed when a high shriek filled the air. She stopped and sank back against the pillows. It was her daughter and she wanted her mother. Sarah quickly weighed her and gave her shots before wrapping her tightly in swaddling. Sherlock ran a hand through his hair and glared at the rather sheepish pair of medical staff at the foot of the bed as they presented Charlie her new born daughter. Charlie cradled her in her arms and simple stared down into her red, squashed face. Mother and child stared at each other and Charlie laughed; a sound Sherlock instantly locked away into his mind palace for later. Her fingers brushed over the chubby cheeks, the blazing patch of reddish-gold hair that covered her scalp and the smallest fingers Sherlock had ever seen.

"Perfect." She whispered and pressed her lips to the baby's forehead.

"My perfect little…" She stopped as a knock came from the door and John and Mrs Hudson walked into the room. Lestrade hung back by the door. Immediately Mrs Hudson rushed to see her grand-niece and marvelled over her, John, like himself, was simply stunned speechless. He looked at Sherlock and both breathed heavy sighs of relief.

"How was it?"

"I won't ever be the same again, but that said I don't think I would ever change that experience." Sherlock said after a moment's pause. Charlie smiled at him and held her newborn daughter closer to her chest as Mrs Hudson snapped a picture. Her expression was one of pure pride. John stepped in and they snapped a picture together.

"Sherlock get in there." Mrs Hudson ordered and he froze.

"What?"

"Absolutely," Charlie commanded and smirked.

"I just abused you for the best part of two hours, you deserve a picture." He shook his head but complied, bending to include himself in the picture. She frowned, as though a thought had suddenly struck her. She grinned devilishly, a very bad sign.

"Take her." Charlie said and John sniggered at him. Sherlock looked around flustered, everyone pointedly looked away. How the hell was he supposed to hold a baby, he didn't even know where to start.

"Just hold her neck steady." Charlie said as carefully transferred her daughter into his arms. He cradled her in the crook of his elbow, her tiny body fitting cleanly within the space between wrist and said elbow. Cautiously he held her neck and exhaled.

"That's it." Charlie coached bemusedly.

"She doesn't have any teeth, she won't bite." Rolling his eyes he once more he leaned in and Charlie rested her head against his shoulder as the three posed once more for a photo. That done she lay back to finally relax. Suddenly she screamed, her green eye flaring wide with pain. The whole room jumped and the little girl in Sherlock's arms wailed at the loud noise so close to her. Charlie writhed and John bellowed for the doctors. They raced in and pulled the bed sheets back to reveal a pool of blood rapidly spreading from between Charlie's legs.

"She's haemorrhaging; quick… get her on oxygen." Sherlock was in shock. In the space of a few seconds this scene, which should have been good for everyone, had gone to complete shit. He clutched Charlie's baby close to his chest as she screamed along with her mother. Everyone was ordered out of the room and Charlie, now under anaesthesia, was wheeled away into surgery. She seemed tiny now that her face had lost its lively glow she still possessed even when asleep, a shell of her usual self. Mrs Hudson was in tears, John wrapped around her like a big security blanket as Sherlock carried the baby girl, still without a name, out into the waiting room. Anderson and Donovan stared down at her in amazement and Sherlock felt strangely protective of her, refusing point blank to give her up to anyone. He sat down and held her protectively within his embrace. Silence reigned and she finally opened her eyes and stared up into his face. He felt his breath catch. She had blue eyes. Piercing blue eyes that he only saw in one other person… himself every time he looked in a mirror. But that was impossible; he'd remember if they had… surely she would have said something… revealed something. He stared down at the tiny, blue eyed creature in his arms and tried desperately to deny what was rapidly becoming very clear to him. A sudden memory hit him with all the force of a semi. Red hair, white sheets and vivid green eyes that twinkled with drunken wickedness. Groaning he stood and carried the little girl out to Sarah who turned to smile at him. He cocked a brow and drew her attention to his discovery. The smile faded and he grimaced.

"I thought so." He said and walked away down the corridor, holding _his _daughter carefully in the shelter of his arms.

**I know it's short but to be fair a lot has happened in this chapter… right? He's finally figured it out so what's he going to do about it? What's the baby's name going to be? Is Charlie going to survive? All these questions and more answered when we return next time. Review and let me know what you thought, bearing in mind that I welcome all messages equally and thrive on constructive criticism. **

_**Translations:**_

_**Rua **__**sióg- red fairy.**_

_**A **__**stór- my precious/dear.**_

_**Chugainn**____**álainn- Come on beautiful.**_

_**Gach **__**rud is deis bheith**__** ceart- Everything is going to be alright/right. **_


End file.
